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LORD TENNYSON'S HOME AT ALDWORTH 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE 



AND OTHER IDYLLS OF THE KING 



ALFRED LORD TENNYSON 



EDITED WITH NOTES BY 

WILLIAM J. ROLFE, Litt. D. 

FORMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 







BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

(grije iRitietsibe pczU^ Camtribge 

1896 






Copyright, i8g6, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

All rights reserved. 



2-3'=? ^?0 



7%« Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Round Table {continued): — 

Lancelot and Elaine i 

The Holy Grail 46 

Pelleas and Ettarre ....... 75 



The Last Tournament 



95 



Guinevere 120 



The Passing of Arthur 



142 



To the Queen 158 

Notes 161 

Index 203 



IDYLLS OF THE KING. 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, 

Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, 

High in her chamber up a tower to the east 

Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ; 

Which first she placed where morning's earhest ray 

Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam ; 

Then fearing rust or soilure fashion'd for it 

A case of silk, and braided thereupon 

All the devices blazon'd on the shield 

In their own tinct, and added, of her wit, 

A border fantasy of branch and flower, 

And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. 

Nor rested thus content, but day by day. 

Leaving her household and good father, climb'd 

That eastern tower, and entering barr'd her door, 

Stript off the case, and read the naked shield. 

Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his arms. 

Now made a pretty history to herself 

Of every dint a sword had beaten in it. 

And every scratch a lance had made upon it. 

Conjecturing when and where : this cut is fresh ; 

That ten years back ; this dealt him at Caerlyle ; 

That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot : 



2 IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

And ah, God's mercy, what a stroke was there ! 
And here a thrust that might have kill'd, but God 
Broke the strong lance, and roll'd his enemy down, 
And saved him : so she lived in fantasy. 

How came the lily maid by that good shield 
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name ? 
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt 
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts, 
Which Arthur had ordain'd, and by that name 
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize. 

For Arthur, long before they crown'd him king, 
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse, 
Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn. 
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave 
Like its own mists to all the mountain side : 
For here two brothers, one a king, had met 
And fought together ; but their names were lost ; 
And each had slain his brother at a blow ; 
And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd : 
And there they lay till all their bones were bleach'd, 
And lichen'd into color with the crags : 
And he that once was king had on a crown 
Of diamonds, one in front and four aside. 
And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass. 
All in a misty moonshine, unawares 
Had trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the skull 
Brake from the nape, and from the skull the crown 
Roll'd into light, and turning on its rims 
Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : 
And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught, 
And set it on his head, and in his heart 
Heard murmurs, 'Lo, thou likewise shalt be kins:.' 



LANCELOT AND ELALNE. 

Thereafter, when a king, he had the gems 
Pluck'd from the crown, and show'd them to his knights 
Saying : 'These jewels, whereupon I chanced 
Divinely, are the kingdom's, not the King's — 
For public use : henceforward let there be, 
Once every year, a joust for one of these : 
For so by nine years' proof we needs must learn 
Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow 
In use of arms and manhood, till we drive 
The heathen, who, some say, shall rule the land 
Hereafter, which God hinder ! ' Thus he spoke : 
And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and still 
Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year, 
With purpose to present them to the Queen 
When all were won ; but, meaning all at once 
To snare her royal fancy with a boon 
Worth half her realm, had never spoken word. 

Now for the central diamond and the last 
And largest, Arthur, holding then his court 
Hard on the river nigh the place which now 
Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust 
At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh 
Spake — for she had been sick — to Guinevere : 
' Are you so sick, my Queen, you cannot move 
To these fair jousts ? ' 'Yea, lord,' she said, 'ye know it.' 
' Then will ye miss,' he answer'd, ' the great deeds 
Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists, 
A sight ye love to look on.' And the Queen 
Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly 
On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King. 
He, thinking that he read her meaning there, 
' Stay with me, I am sick ; my love is more 



4 IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

Than many diamonds,' yielded ; and a heart 
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen — 
However much he yearn'd to make complete 
The tale of diamonds for his destined boon — 
Urged him to speak against the truth, and say, 
' Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly whole, 
And lets me from the saddle ; ' and the King 
Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way. 
No sooner gone than suddenly she began : 

' To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much to blame ! 
Why go ye not to these fair jousts? the knights 
Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd 
Will murmur, " Lo the shameless ones, who take 
Their pastime now the trustful King is gone ! " ' 
Then Lancelot, vext at having lied in vain : 
' Are ye so wise ? ye were not once so wise, 
My Queen, that summer when ye loved me first. 
Then of the crowd ye took no more account 
Than of the myriad cricket of the mead. 
When its own voice clings to each blade of grass, 
And every voice is nothing. As to knights, 
Them surely can I silence with all ease. 
But now my loyal worship is allow'd 
Of all men : many a bard, without offence. 
Has link'd our names together in his lay, 
Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guinevere, 
The pearl of beauty ; and our knights at feast 
Have pledged us in this union, while the King 
Would listen smiling. How then ? is there more ? 
Has Arthur spoken aught ? or would yourself, 
Now weary of my service and devoir. 
Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord ? ' 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

She broke into a little scornful laugh : 
' Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless King, 
That passionate perfection, my good lord — 
But who can gaze upon the sun in heaven ? 
He never spake word of reproach to me. 
He never had a glimpse of mine untruth. 
He cares not for me : only here to-day 
There gleamed a vague suspicion in his eyes : 
Some meddling rogue has tamper'd with him — else 
Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, 
And swearing men to vows impossible, 
To make them like himself ; but, friend, to me 
He is all fault who hath no fault at all : 
For who loves me must have a touch of earth ; 
The low sun makes the colour : I am yours, 
Not Arthur's, as ye know, save by the bond. 
And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts : 
The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream 
When sweetest ; and the vermin voices here 
May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they sting.' 

Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights : 
* And with what face, after my pretext made, 
Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I 
Before a king who honors his own word 
As if it were his God's ? ' 

'Yea,' said the Queen, 
' A moral child without the craft to rule, 
Else had he not lost me : but listen to me. 
If I must find you wit : we hear it said 
That men go down before your spear at a touch. 
But knowing you are Lancelot ; your great name. 
This conquers : hide it therefore ; go unknown : 



6 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Win ! by this kiss you will : and our true King 

Will then allow your pretext, O my knight, 

As all for glory ; for to speak him true. 

Ye know right well, how meek soe'er he seem, 

No keener hunter after glory breathes. 

He loves it in his knights more than himself ; 

They prove to him his work : win and return.' 

Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse. 
Wroth at himself. Not willing to be known, 
He left the barren-beaten thoroughfare, 
Chose the green path that show'd the rarer foot, 
And there among the solitary downs. 
Full often lost in fancy, lost his way ; 
Till as he traced a faintly-shadow'd track. 
That all in loops and links among the dales 
Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw 
Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers. 
Thither he made, and blew the gateway horn. 
Then came an old, dumb, myriad-wrinkled man, 
Who let him into lodging and disarm'd. 
And Lancelot marvell'd at the wordless man ; 
And issuing found the Lord of Astolat 
With two strong sons. Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, 
Moving to meet him in the castle court ; ' 
And close behind them stept the lily maid 
Elaine, his daughter : mother of the house 
There was not. Some light jest among them rose 
With laughter dying down as the great knight - 
Approach'd them ; then the Lord of Astolat : 
' Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what name 
Livest between the lips ? for by thy state 
And presence I might guess thee chief of those, 
After the King, who eat in Arthur's halls. 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Round, 
Known as they are, to me they are unknown.' 

Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights : 
' Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and known. 
What I by mere mischance have brought, my shield. 
But since I go to joust as one unknown 
At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not ; 
Hereafter ye shall know me — and the shield — 
I pray you lend me one, if such you have, 
Blank, or at least with some device not mine.' 

Then said the Lord of Astolat : ' Here is Torre's : 
Hurt in his first tilt was my son, Sir Torre ; 
And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough. 
His ye can have.' Then added plain Sir Torre, 
'Yea, since I cannot use it, ye may have it.' 
Here laugh'd the father saying : ' Fie, Sir Churl, 
Is that an answer foi; a noble knight ? 
Allow him ! but Lavaine, my younger here, 
He is so full of lustihood, he will ride. 
Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour, 
And set it in this damsel's golden hair. 
To make her thrice as wilful as before.' 

' Nay, father, nay, good father, shame me not 
Before this noble knight,' said young Lavaine, 
' For nothing. Surely I but play'd on Torre : 
He seem'd'SO sullen, vext he could not go : 
A jest, no more ! for, knight, the maiden dreamt 
That some one put this diamond in her hand. 
And that it was too slippery to be held. 
And slipt and fell into some pool or stream, 
The castle-well, belike ; and then I said 



8 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

That if\ went and if\ fought and won it — 
But all was jest and joke among ourselves — 
Then must she keep it safelier. All w^s jest. 
But, father, give me leave, an if he will, 
To ride to Camelot with this noble knight : 
Win shall I not, but do my best to win ; 
Young as I am, yet would I do my best.' 

' So ye will grace me,' answer'd Lancelot, ' 
Smiling a moment, ' with your fellowship 
O'er these waste downs whereon I lost myself, 
Then were I glad of you as guide and friend : 
And you shall win this diamond, — as I hear, 
It is a fair large diamond, — if ye may, 
And yield it to this maiden, if ye will' 
' A fair large diamond,' added plain Sir Torre, 
' Such be for queens, and not for simple maids.' 
'J'hen she, who held her eyes upon the ground, 
Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, 
Flush'd slightly at the slight disparagement 
Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her, 
Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus return'd : 
' If what is fair be but for what is fair, 
And only queens are to be counted so. 
Rash were my judgment then, who deem this maid 
Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth. 
Not violating the bond of like to like.' 

He spoke and ceased : the lily maid Elaine, 
Won by the mellow voice before she look'd. 
Lifted her eyes and read his lineaments. 
The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, 
In battle with the love he bare his lord, 
Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time. 



LANCELOT AND ELALNE. 

Another sinning on such heights with one, 

The flower of all the west and all the world, 

Had been the sleeker for it ; but in him 

His mood was often like a fiend, and rose 

And drove him into wastes and solitudes 

For agony, who was yet a living soul. 

Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the goodliest man 

That ever among ladies ate in hall, 

And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. 

However marr'd, of more than t\yice her years, 

Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek, 

And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes 

And loved him, with that love which was her doom. 

Then the great knight, the darling of the court, 
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall 
Stept with all grace, and not with half disdain 
Hid under grace, as in a smaller time, 
But kindly man moving among his kind : 
Whom they with meats and vintage of their best 
And talk and minstrel melody entertain'd. 
And much they ask'd of court and Table Round, 
And ever well and readily answer'd he ; 
But Lancelot, when they glanced at Guinevere, 
Suddenly speaking'of the wordless man, 
Heard from the baron that, ten years before, 
The heathen caught and reft him of his tongue. 
' He learnt and warn'd me of their fierce design 
Against my house, and him they caught and maim'd 
But I, my sons, and little daughter fled 
From bonds or death, and dwelt among the woods 
By the great river in a boatman's hut. 
Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke , 
The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill.' 



lO IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

' O there, great lord, doubtless,' Lavaine said, rapt 
By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth 
Toward greatness in its elder, ' you have fought. 
O, tell us — for we live apart — you know 
Of Arthur's glorious wars.' And Lancelot spoke 
And answer'd him at full, as having been 
With Arthur in the fight which all day long 
Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem ; 
And in the four loud battles by the shore 
Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war 
That thunder'd in and out the gloomy skirts 
Of Celidon the forest ; and again 
By Castle Gurnion, where the glorious King 
Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's Head, 
Carved of one emerald centred in a sun 
Of silver rays, that lighten'd as he breathed ; 
And at Caerleon had he helped his lord, 
When the strong neighings of the wild White Horse 
Set every gilded parapet shuddering ; 
And up in Agned-Cathregonion too. 
And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Treroit, 
Where many a heathen fell ; ' and on the mount 
Of Badon I myself beheld the King 
Charge at the head of all his Table Round, 
And all his legions crying Christ and him, 
And break them ; and I saw him, after, stand 
High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume 
Red as the rising sun with heathen blood, 
And seeing me, with a great voice he cried, 
" They are broken, they are broken ! " for the King, 
However mild he seems at home, nor cares 
For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts — 
For if his own knight casts him down, he laughs. 
Saying his knights are better men than he — 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

Yet in this heathen war the fire of God . 
Fills him : I never saw his like ; there lives 
No greater leader.' 

While he utter'd this, 
Low to her own heart said the lily maid, 
' Save your great self, fair lord ; ' and when he fell 
From talk of war to traits of pleasantry — 
Being mirthful he, but in a stately kind — 
She still took note that when the living smile 
Died from his lips, across him came a cloud 
Of melancholy severe, from which again. 
Whenever in her hovering to and fro 
The lily maid had striven to make him cheer, 
There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness 
Of manners and of nature : and she thought 
That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. 
And all night long his face before her lived. 
As when a painter, poring on a face, 
Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man 
Behind it, and so paints him that his face, 
The shape and color of a mind and life. 
Lives for his children, ever at its best 
And fullest; so the face before her lived, 
Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full 
Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. 
Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought 
She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. 
First as in fear, step after step, she stole 
Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating : 
Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, 
' This shield, my friend, where is it ? ' and Lavaine 
Past inward, as she came from out the tower. 
There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd, and smooth'd 



12 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

The glossy shoulder, humming to himself. 

Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew 

Nearer and stood. He look'd, and, more amazed 

Than if seven men had set upon him, saw 

The maiden standing in the dewy light. 3So 

He had not dream'd she was so beautiful. 

Then came on him a sort of sacred fear, 

For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood 

Rapt on his face as if it were a god's. 

Suddenly flash'd on her a wild desire \ 

That he should wear her favor at the tilt. 

She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. 

' Fair lord, whose name I know not — noble it is, 

I well believe, the noblest — will you wear 

My favor at this tourney ? ' ' Nay,' said he, 360 

' Fair lady, since I never yet have worn 

Favor of any lady in the lists. 

Such is my wont, as those who know me know.' 

' Yea, so,' she answer'd ; ' then in wearing mine 

Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord, 

That those who know should know you.' And he turn'd 

Her counsel up and down within his mind. 

And found it true, and answer'd : ' True, my child. 

Well, I will wear it : fetch it out to me : 

What is it ? ' and she told him, ' A red sleeve 370 

Broider'd with pearls,' and brought it : then he bound 

Her token on his helmet, with a smile 

Saying, 'I never yet have done so much 

For any maiden living,' and the blood 

Sprang to her face and fill'd her with delight ; 

But left her all the paler when Lavaine 

Returning brought the yet-unblazon'd shield, 

His brother's ; which he gave to Lancelot, 

Who parted with his own to fair Elaine : 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

* Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield 

In keeping till I come.' ' A grace to me,' 

She answer'd, ' twice to-day. I am your squire ! ' 

Whereat Lavaine said laughing : ' Lily maid, 

For fear our people call you lily maid 

In earnest, let me bring your color back ; 

Once, twice, and thrice : now get you hence to bed : 

So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand, 

And thus they moved away : she staid a minute, 

Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there — 

Her bright hair blown about the serious face 

Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss — 

Paused by the gateway, standing near the shield 

In silence, while she watch'd their arms far-off 

Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. 

Then to her tower she climb'd, and took the shield, 

There kept it, and so lived in fantasy. ^ 

Meanwhile the new companions past away 
Far o'er the long backs of the bushless downs. 
To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight 
Not far from Camelot, now for forty years 
A hermit, who had pray'd, labor'd and pray'd, 
And ever laboring had scoop'd himself 
In the white rock a chapel and a hall 
On massive columns, like a shore-cliff cave, 
And cells and chambers : all were fair and dry ; 
The green light from the meadows underneath 
Struck up and lived along the milky roofs; 
And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees 
And poplars made a noise of falHng showers. 
And thither wending there that night they bode. 

But when the next day broke from underground, 
And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave, 



14 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode away. 
Then Lancelot saying, ' Hear, but hold my name 
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake,' 
Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant reverence. 
Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise, 
But left him leave to stammer, ' Is it indeed ? ' 
And after muttering, * The great Lancelot,' 
At last he got his breath and answer'd : ' One, 
One have I seen — that other, our liege lord, 
The dread Pendragon, Britain's King of kings, 
Of whom the people talk mysteriously, 
He will be there — then were I stricken blind 
That minute, I might say that I had seen.' 

So spake Lavaine, and when they reach'd the lists 
By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes 
Run thro' the peopled gallery which half round 
Lay like a rainbow fallen upon the grass, 
Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat 
Robed in red samite, easily to be known. 
Since to his crown the golden dragon clung, 
And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold. 
And from the carven-work behind him crept 
Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make 
Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them 
Thro' knots and loops and folds innumerable 
Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found 
The new design wherein they lost themselves. 
Yet with all ease, so tender was the work : 
And, in the costly canopy o'er him set. 
Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king. 

Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine and said : 
* Me you call great : mine is the firmer seat. 



LANCELOT AND ELALNE. 1 5 

The truer lance : but there is many a youth 

Now crescent, who will come to all I am 

And overcome it ; and in me there dwells 

No greatness, save it be some far-off touch 

Of greatness to know well I am not great : 

There is the man.' And I^avaine gaped upon him 450 

As on a thing miraculous, and anon 

The trumpets blew ; and then did either side. 

They that assail'd, and they that held the lists, 

Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move. 

Meet in the midst, arid there so furiously 

Shock that a man far-off might well perceive, 

If any man that day were left afield, 

The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms. 

And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw 

Which were the weaker ; then he hurl'd into it 460 

Against the stronger : little need to speak 

Of Lancelot in his glory ! King, duke, earl. 

Count, baron — whom he smote, he overthrew. 

But in the field were Lancelot's kith and kin, 
Ranged with the Table Round that held the lists, 
Strong men, and wrathful that a stranger knight 
Should do and almost overdo the deeds 
Of Lancelot ; and one said to the other, ' Lo ! 
What is he ? I do not mean the force alone — 
The grace and versatility of the man ! 470 

Is it not Lancelot ? ' ' When has Lancelot worn 
Favor of any lady in the lists ? 
Not such his wont, as we that know him know.' 
' How then ? who then ? ' a fury seized them all, 
A fiery family passion for the name 
Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs. 
They couch'd their spears and prick'd their steeds, and thus, 



1 6 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Their plumes driven backward by the wind they made 

In moving, all together down upon him 

Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North Sea, 480 

Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all 

Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, 

Down on a bark, and overbears the bark 

And him that helms it ; so they overbore 

Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear 

Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear 

Prick'd sharply his own cuirass, and the head 

Pierced thro' his side, and there snapt and remain'd. 

Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully : 
He bore a knight of old repute to the earth, 490 

And brought his horse to Lancelot where he lay. 
He up the side, sweating with agony, got, 
But thought to do while he might yet endure, 
And being lustily holpen by the rest. 
His party, — tho' it seem'd half-miracle 
To those he fought with, — drave his kith and kin, 
And all the Table Round that held the lists. 
Back to the barrier ; then the trumpets blew 
Proclaiming his the prize who wore the sleeve 
Of scarlet and the pearls ; and all the knights, 500 

His party, cried, ' Advance and take thy prize 
The diamond ; ' but he answer'd : ' Diamond me 
No diamonds ! for God's love, a little air ! 
Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death ! 
Hence will I, and I charge you, follow me not.' 

He spoke, and vanish'd suddenly from the field 
With young Lavaine into the poplar grove. 
There from his charger down he slid, and sat. 
Gasping to Sir Lavaine, ' Draw the lance-head.' 



LANCELOT AND ELALNE. 

' Ah, my sweet lord Sir Lancelot,' said Lavaine, 

' I dread me, if I draw it, you will die.' 

But he, ' I die already with it : draw — 

Draw,' — and Lavaine drew, and Sir Lancelot gave 

A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan. 

And half his blood burst forth, and down he sank 

For the pure pain, and wholly swoon'd away. 

Then came the hermit out and bare him in, 

There stanch'd his wound ; and there, in daily doubt 

Whether to live or die, for many a week 

Hid from the wild world's rumor by the grove 

Of poplars with their noise of falling showers. 

And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay. 

But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists, 
His party, knights of utmost North and West, 
Lords of waste marshes, kings of desolate isles, 
Came round their great Pendragon, saying to him, 
* Lo, Sire, our knight, thro' whom we won the day, 
Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize 
Untaken, crying that his prize is death.' 
' Heaven hinder,' said the King, ' that such an one, 
So great a knight as we have seen to-day — 
He seem'd to me another Lancelot ' — 
Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot — 
He must not pass uncared for. Wherefore rise, 

Gawain, and ride forth and find the knight. 
Wounded and wearied, needs must he be near. 

1 charge you that you get at once to horse. 

And, knights and kings,' there breathes not one of you 
Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given : 
His prowess was too wondrous. We will do him 
No customary honor : since the knight 
Came not to us, of us to claim the prize, 

VOL. 11. 



1 8 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Ourselves will send it after. Rise and take 
This diamond, and deliver it, and return, 
And bring us where he is, and how he fares, 
And cease not from your quest until ye find.' 

So saying, from the carven flower above, 
To which it made a restless heart, he took 
And gave the diamond : then from where he sat 
At Arthur's right, with smiling face arose, sso 

With smiling face and frowning heart, a prince 
In the mid might and flourish of his May, 
Gawain, surnamed the Courteous, fair and strong, 
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Geraint, 
And Gareth, a good knight, but therewithal 
Sir Modred's brother, and the child of Lot, 
Nor often loyal to his word, and now 
Wroth that the King's command to sally forth 
In quest of whom he knew not, made him leave 
The banquet and concourse of knights and kings. 560 

So all in wrath he got to horse and went ; 
While Arthur to the banquet, dark in mood. 
Past, thinking, 'Is it Lancelot who hath come 
Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain 
Of glory, and hath added wound to wound, 
And ridden away to die ? ' So fear'd the King, 
And, after two days' tarriance there, return'd. 
Then when he saw the Queen, embracing ask'd, 
' Love, are you yet so sick ? ' 'Nay, lord,' she said. 
' And where is Lancelot ? ' Then the Queen amazed, 570 
' Was he not with you ? won he not your prize ? ' 
' Nay, but one like him.' ' Why, that like was he.' 
And when the King demanded how she knew, 
Said : ' Lord, no sooner had ye parted from us 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. I9 

Than Lancelot told me of a common talk 

That men went down before his spear at a touch, 

But knowing he was Lancelot ; his great name 

Conquer'd ; and therefore would he hide his name 

From all men, even the King, and to this end 

Had made the pretext of a hindering wound, 580 

That he might joust unknown of all, and learn 

If his old prowess were in aught decay'd ; 

And added, " Our true Arthur, when he learns, 

Will well allow my pretext, as for gain 

Of purer glory." ' 

Then replied the King : 
'Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been. 
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth, 
To have trusted me as he hath trusted thee. 
Surely his King and most familiar friend 
Might well have kept his secret. True, indeed, 590 

Albeit I know my knights fantastical, 
So fine a fear in our large Lancelot 
Must needs have moved my laughter : now remains 
But little cause for laughter : his own kin — 
111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, this ! — 
His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him ; 
So that he went sore wounded from the field. 
Yet good news too ; for goodly hopes are mine 
That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart. 
He wore, against his wont, upon his helm 600 

A sleeve of scarlet, broider'd with great pearls. 
Some gentle maiden's gift.' 

' Yea, lord,' she said, 
' Thy hopes are mine,' and saying that, she choked, 
And sharply turn'd about to hide her face, 



20 IDYLLS OF THE lilJVG. 

Past to her chamber, and there flung herself 
Down on the great King's couch, and writhed upon it, 
And clench'd her fingers till they bit the palm, 
And shriek'd out ' Traitor ! ' to the unhearing wall, 
Then flash'd into wild tears, and rose again, 
And moved about her palace, proud and pale. 

Gawain the while thro' all the region round 
Rode with his diamond, wearied of the quest, 

ouch'd at all points except the poplar grove, 
And came at last, tho' late, to Astolat ; 
Whom glittering in enamell'd arms the maid 
Glanced at, and cried, ' What news from Camelot, lord ? 
What of the knight with the red sleeve ? ' ' He won.' 
' I knew it,' she said. ' But parted from the jousts 
Hurt in the side ; ' whereat she caught her breath ; 
Thro' her own side she felt the sharp lance go ; 
Thereon she smote her hand ; wellnigh she swoon'd : 
And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, came 
The Lord of Astolat out, to whom the prince 
Reported who he was, and on what quest 
Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find 
The victor, but had ridden a random round 
To seek him, and had wearied of the search. 
To whom the Lord of Astolat : ' Bide with us, 
And ride no more at random, noble prince ! 
Here was the knight, and here he left a shield ; 
This will he send or come for : furthermore 
Our son is with him ; we shall hear anon. 
Needs must we hear.' To this the courteous prince 
Accorded with his wonted courtesy. 
Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it," 
And staid ; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine ; 
Where could be found face daintier ? then her shape 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 21 

From forehead down to foot, perfect — again 
From foot to forehead exquisitely turn'd : 
' Well — if I bide, lo ! this wild flower for me ! ' 640 

And oft they met among the garden yews, 
And there he set himself to play upon her 
With sallying wit, free flashes from a height 
Above her, graces of the court, and songs, 
Sighs, and low smiles, and golden eloquence 
And amorous adulation, till the maid 
Rebell'd against it, saying to him: 'Prince, 
O loyal nephew of our noble King, 
Why ask you not to see the shield he left. 
Whence you might learn his name ? Why slight your 
King, 650 

And lose the quest he sent you on, and prove 
No surer than our falcon yesterday. 
Who lost the hern we slipt her at, and went 
To all the winds ? ' ' Nay, by mine head,' said he, 
' I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, 
O damsel, in the light of your blue eyes ; 
But an ye will it let me see the shield.' 
And when the shield was brought, and Gawain saw 
Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crown'd with gold. 
Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and mock'd : 660 

' Right was the King ! our Lancelot ! that true man ! ' 
' And right was I,' she answer'd merrily, ' I, 
Who dream'd my knight the greatest knight of all.' 
'And if /dream'd,' said Gawain, 'that you love 
This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo, ye know it ! 
Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain ? ' 
Full simple was her answer : ' What know I ? 
My brethren have been all my fellowship ; 
And I, when often they have talk'd of love, 



22 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talk'd, 670 

Meseem'd, of what they knew not ; so myself — 

I know not if I know what true love is, 

But if I know, then, if I love not him, 

I know there is none other I can love.' 

' Yea, by God's death,' said he, ' ye love him well. 

But would not, knew ye what all others know. 

And whom he loves.' ' So be it,' cried Elaine, 

And lifted her fair face and moved away : 

But he pursued her, calling, ' Stay a little ! 

One golden minute's grace ! he wore your sleeve : 680 

Would he break faith with one I may not name ? 

Must our true man change like a leaf at last ? 

Nay — like enow : why then, far be it from me 

To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves ! 

And, damsel, for I deem you know full well 

Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave 

My quest with you ; the diamond also : here ! 

For if you love, it will be sweet to give it ; 

And if he love, it will be sweet to have it 

From your own hand ; and whether he love or not, 690 

A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well 

A thousand times ! — a thousand times farewell ! 

Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two 

May meet at court hereafter : there, I think, 

So ye will learn the courtesies of the court, 

We too shall know each other.' 

Then he gave. 
And slightly kiss'd the hand to which he gave. 
The diamond, and all wearied of the quest 
Leapt on his horse, and carolling as he went 
A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 700 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 23 

Thence to the court he past ; there told the King 
What the King knew, ' Sir Lancelot is the knight.' 
And added, ' Sire, my liege, so much T learnt ; 
But fail'd to find him, tho' I rode all round 
The region : but I lighted on the maid 
Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; and to her, 
Deeming our courtesy is the truest law, . 
I gave the diamond : she will render it ; 
For by mine head she knows his hiding-place.' 

The seldom-frowning King frown'd, and replied, 710 

* Too courteous truly ! ye shall go no more 
On quest of mine, seeing that ye forget 
Obedience is the courtesy due to kings.' 

He spake and parted. Wroth, but all in awe, 
For twenty strokes of the blood, without a word, 
Linger'd that other, staring after him ; 
Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad 
About the maid of Astolat, and her love. 
All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were loosed : 
'The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, 720 

Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat.' 
Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and all 
Had marvel what the maid might be, but most 
Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame 
Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news. 
She, that had heard the noise of it before. 
But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so low, 
Marr'd her friend's aim with pale tranquillity. 
So ran the tale like fire about the court. 
Fire in dry stubble a nine-days' wonder flared : 73c 

Till even the knights at banquet twice or thrice 
Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen, 



24 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid 
Smiled at each other, while the Queen, who sat 
With lips severely placid, felt the knot 
Climb in her throat, and with her feet unseen 
Crush'd the wild passion out against the floor 
Beneath the banquet, where the meats became 
As wormwood and she hated all who pledged. 

But far away the maid in Astolat, 740 

Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept j 

The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart, 
Crept to her father, while he mused alone, 
Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face and said : 
' Father, you call me wilful, and the fault 
Is yours who let me have my will, and now, 
Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits ? ' 
' Nay,' said he, ' surely.' 'Wherefore, let me hence,' 
She answer'd, ' and find out our dear Lavaine.' 
' Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine : 750 

Bide,' answer'd he : 'we needs must hear anon 
Of him, and of that other.' ' Ay,' she said, 
' And of that other, for I needs must hence 
And find that other, whereso'er he be, 
And with mine own hand give his diamond to him, 
Lest I be found as faithless in the quest 
As yon proud prince who left the quest to me. 
Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams 
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself. 
Death-pale, for the lack of gentle maiden's aid. 760 

The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound. 
My father, to be sweet and serviceable 
To noble knights in sickness, as ye know, 
When these have worn their tokens : let me hence, 
I pray you.' Then her father nodding said : 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 2$ 

' Ay, ay, the diamond : wit ye well, my child. 

Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole, 

Being our greatest : yea, and you must give it — 

And sure I think this fruit is hung too high 

For any mouth to gape for save a queen's — 770 

Nay, I mean nothing : so then, get you gone. 

Being so very wilful you must go.' 

Lightly, her suit allow'd, she slipt away. 
And while she made her ready for her ride 
Her father's latest word humm'd in her ear, 
' Being so very wilful you must go,' 
And changed itself and echo'd in her heart, 
' Being so very wilful you must die.' 
But she was happy enough and shook it off, 
As we shake o£E the bee that buzzes at us ; 780 

And in her heart she answer'd it and said, 
' What matter, so I help him back to life ? ' 
Then far away with good Sir Torre for guide 
Rode o'er the long backs of the bushless downs 
To Camelot, and before the city-gates 
Came on her brother with a happy face 
Making a roan horse caper and curvet 
For pleasure all about a field of flowers ; 
Whom when she saw, 'Lavaine,' she cried, ' Lavaine, 
How fares my lord Sir Lancelot ? ' He amazed, 790 

' Torre and Elaine ! why here } Sir Lancelot ! 
How know ye my lord's name is Lancelot ? ' 
But when the maid had told him all her tale. 
Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his moods 
Left them, and under the strange-statued gate, 
Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically. 
Past up the still rich city to his kin, 
His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot ; 



26 IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove 

Led to the caves : there first she saw the casque 800 

Of Lancelot on the wall : her scarlet sleeve, 

Tho' carved and cut, and half the pearls away, 

Stream'd from it still ; and in her heart she laugh'd, 

Because he had not loosed it from his helm. 

But meant once more perchance to tourney in it. 

And when they gain'd the cell wherein he slept, 

His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands 

Lay naked on the wolf-skin, and a dream 

Of dragging down his enemy made them move. 

Then she that saw him lying un sleek, unshorn, 810 

Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself, 

Utter'd a little tender dolorous cry. 

The sound not wonted in a place so still 

Woke the sick knight, and while he roll'd his eyes 

Yet blank from sleep, she started to him, saying, 

' Your prize the diamond sent you by the King.' 

His eyes glisten'd : she fancied, ' Is it for me ? ' 

And when the maid had told him all the tale 

Of king and prince, the diamond sent, the quest 

Assign'd to her not worthy of it, she knelt 820 

Full lowly by the corners of his bed. 

And laid the diamond in his open hand. 

Her face was near, and as we kiss the child 

That does the task assign'd, he kiss'd her face. 

At once she slipt like water to the floor. 

'Alas,' he said, ' your ride hath wearied you. 

Rest must you have.' ' No rest for me,' she said ; 

' Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest.' 

What might she mean by that ? his large black eyes, 

Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her, 830 

Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself 

In the heart's colors on her simple face ; 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 2/ 

And Lancelot look'd and was perplext in mind, 
And being weak in body said no more, 
But did not love the color ; woman's love, 
Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd 
Sighing, and feign'd a sleep until he slept. 

Then rose Elaine and glided thro' the fields, 
And past beneath the weirdly-sculptured gates 
Far up the dim rich city to her kin ; 840 

There bode the night : but woke with dawn, and past 
Down thro' the dim rich city to the fields, 
Thence to the cave. So day by day she past 
In either twilight ghost-like to and fro 
Gliding, and every day she tended him, 
And likewise many a night ; and Lancelot 
Would, tho' he call'd his wound a little hurt 
Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times 
Brain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem 
Uncourteous, even he : but the meek maid 850 

Sweetly forbore him ever, being to him 
Meeker than any child to a rough nurse, 
Milder than any mother to a sick child, 
And never woman yet, since man's first fall. 
Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love 
Upbore her ; till the hermit, skill'd in all 
The simples and the science of that time. 
Told him that her fine care had saved his life. 
And the sick man forgot her simple blush. 
Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine, 860 

Would listen for her coming and regret 
Her parting step, and held her tenderly, 
And loved her with all love except the love 
Of man and woman when they love their best, 
Closest and sweetest, and had died the death 



28 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

In any knightly fashion for her sake. 

And peradventure had he seen her first 

She might have made this and that other world 

Another world for the sick man ; but now 

The shackles of an old love straiten'd him, 870 

His honor rooted in dishonor stood, 

And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. 

Yet the great knight in his mid-sickness made 
Full many a holy vow and pure resolve. 
These, as but born of sickness, could not live ; 
For when the blood ran lustier in him again. 
Full often the bright image of one face. 
Making a treacherous quiet in his heart. 
Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. 

Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace 880 

Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he answer'd not, 
Or short and coldly, and she knew right well 
What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant 
She knew not, and the sorrow dimm'd her sight. 
And drave her ere her time across the fields 
Far into the rich city, where alone 
She murmur'd, ' Vain, in vain : it cannot be. 
He will not love me : how then 1 must I die ? ' 
Then as a little helpless innocent bird, 

That has but one plain passage of few notes, 890 

Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er 
For all an April morning, till the ear 
Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid 
Went half the night repeating, ' Must I die ? ' 
And now to right she turn'd, and now to left. 
And found no ease in turning or in rest ; 
And ' Him or death,' she mutter'd, ' death or him,' 
Again and like a burthen, ' Him or death.' 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 29 

But when Sir Lancelot's deadly hurt was whole, 
To Astolat returning rode the three. 900 

There morn by morn, arraying her sweet self 
In that wherein she deem'd she look'd her best, 
She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought, 
' If I be loved, these are my festal robes. 
If not, the victim's flowers before he fall.' 
And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid 
That she should ask some goodly gift of him 
For her own self or hers : 'and do not shun 
To speak the wish most near to your true heart ; 
Such service have ye done me that I make 910 

My will of yours, and prince and lord am I 
In mine own land, and what I will I can.' 
Then like a ghost she lifted up her face. 
But like a ghost without the power to speak. 
And Lancelot saw that she withheld her wish, 
And bode among them yet a little space 
Till he should learn it ; and one morn it chanced 
He found her in among the garden yews. 
And said, ' Delay no longer, speak your wish, 
Seeing I go to-day : ' then out she brake : 92° 

' Going ? and we shall never see you more. 
And I must die for want of one bold word.' 
' Speak : that I live to hear,' he said, 'is yours.' 
Then suddenly and passionately she spoke : 
' I have gone mad. I love you : let me die.' 
' Ah, sister,' answer'd Lancelot, 'what is this ? ' 
And innocently extending her white arms, 
' Your love,' she said, ' your love — to be your wife.' 
And Lancelot answer'd, ' Had I chosen to wed, 
I had been wedded earlier, sweet Elaine ; 930 

But now there never will be wife of mine.' 
' No, no,' she cried, ' I care not to be wife, 



30 IDYLLS OF THE ItlNG. 

But to be with you still, to see your face, 

To serve you, and to follow you thro' the world.' 

And Lancelot answer'd : ' Nay, the world, the world, 

All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart 

To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue 

To blare its own interpretation — nay, 

Full ill then should I quit your brother's love. 

And your good father's kindness.' And she said, 94° 

' Not to be with you, not to see your face — 

Alas for me then, my good days are done ! ' 

'Nay, noble maid,' he answer'd, ' ten times nay! 

This is not love, but love's first flash in youth, 

Most common : yea, I know it of mine own self ; 

And you yourself will smile at your own self 

Hereafter, when you yield your flower of life 

To one more fitly yours, not thrice your age. 

And then will I, for true you are and sweet 

Beyond mine old belief in womanhood, 950 

More specially should your good knight be poor. 

Endow you with broad land and territory 

Even to the half my realm beyond the seas. 

So that would make you happy : furthermore, 

Even to the death, as tho' ye were my blood, ^ 

In all your quarrels will I be your knight. 

This will I do, dear damsel, for your sake, 

And more than this I cannot.' 

While he spoke 
She neither blush'd nor shook, but deathly-pale 
Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied, 960 

'Of all this will I nothing ; ' and so fell. 
And thus they bore her swooning to her tower. 

Then spake, to whom thro' those black walls of yew 
Their talk had pierced, her father : ' Ay, a flash, 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 3 1 

I fear me, that will strike my blossom dead. 
Too courteous are ye, fair Lord Lancelot. 
I pray you, use some rough discourtesy 
To blunt or break her passion.' 

Lancelot said, 
' That were against me : what I can I will ; ' 
And there that day remain'd, and toward even 97° 

Sent for his shield : full meekly rose the maid, 
Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield ; 
Then, when she heard his horse upon the stones, 
Unclasping flung the casement back, and look'd 
Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had gone. 
And Lancelot knew the little clinking sound ; 
And she by tact of love was well aware 
That Lancelot knew that she was looking at him. 
And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his hand, 
Nor bade farewell, but sadly rode away. 980 

This was the one discourtesy that he used. 

So in her tower alone the maiden sat : 
His very shield was gone ; only the case. 
Her own poor work, her empty labor, left. 
But still she heard him, still his picture form'd 
And grew between her and the pictured wall. 
Then came her father, saying in low tones, 
' Have comfort,' whom she greeted quietly. 
Then came her brethren saying, ' Peace to thee, 
Sweet sister,' whom she answer'd with all calm. 99° 

But when they left her to herself again. 
Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field 
Approaching thro' the darkness, call'd ; the owls 
Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt 
Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms 
Of evening and the meanings of the wind. 



32 IDYLLS OF THE liLNG. 

And in those days she made a little song, 
And call'd her song ' The Song of Love and Death,' 
And sang it : sweetly could she make and sing. 

' Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ; 
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : 
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

' Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be : 
Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. 

Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. ' 

' Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away j 
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay: 

1 know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

* I fain would follow love, if that could be ; • 
I needs must follow death, who calls for me ; 
Call and I follow, I follow ! let me die.' 

High with the last line scaled her voice, and this, 
All in a fiery dawning wild with wind 
That shook her tower, the brothers heard, and thought 
With shuddering, ' Hark the Phantom of the house 
That ever shrieks before a death,' and call'd 
The father, and all three in hurry and fear 
Ran to her, and lo ! the blood-red light of dawn 
Flared on her face, she shrilling, ' Let me die ! ' 

As when we dwell upon a word we know, 
Repeating, till the word we know so well 
Becomes a wonder, and we know not why, 
So dwelt the father on her face, and thought, 
'Is this Elaine ? ' till back the maiden fell, 



LANCELOT AND ELALNE. 33 

Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay, 

Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes. 

At last she said : ' Sweet brothers, yesternight 

I seem'd a curious little maid again, 

As happy as when we dwelt among the woods, 

And when ye used to take me with the flood 1030 

Up the great river in the boatman's boat. 

Only ye would not pass beyond the cape 

That has the poplar on it : there ye fixt 

Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 

And yet I cried because ye would not pass 

Beyond it, and far up the shining flood 

Until we found the palace of the King. 

And yet ye would not ; but this night I dream'd 

That I was all alone upon the flood, 

And then I said, " Now shall I have my will : " 1040 

And there I woke, but still the wish remain'd. 

So let me hence that I may pass at last 

Beyond the poplar and far up the flood, 

Until I find the palace of the King. 

There will I enter in among them all, 

And no man there will dare to mock at me ; 

But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me. 

And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at me ; 

Gawain, who bade a thousand farewells to me, 

Lancelot, who coldly went, nor bade me one : 1050 

And there the King will know me and my love, 

And there the Queen herself will pity me, 

And all the gentle court will welcome me. 

And after my long voyage I shall rest ! ' 

' Peace,' said her father, ' O my child, ye seem 
Light-headed, for what force is yours to go 

VOL. II. 



34 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

So far, being sick ? and wlieref ore would ye look 
On this proud fellow again, who scorns us all ? ' 

Then the rough Torre began to heave and move, 
And bluster into stormy sobs and say : ic 

' I never loved him : an I meet with him, 
I care not howsoever great he be. 
Then will I strike at him and strike him down ; 
Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead. 
For this discomfort he hath done the house.' , 

I 

To whom the gentle sister made reply : 
' Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor be wroth, 
Seeing it is no more Sir Lancelot's fault 
Not to love me than it is mine to love 
Him of all men who seems to me the highest.' lo 

* Highest ? ' the father answer'd, echoing ' highest ? ' — 
He meant to break the passion in her — ' nay, 
Daughter, I know not what you call the highest ; 
But this I know, for all the people know it, 
He loves the Queen, and in an open shame : 
And she returns his love in open shame ; 
If this be high, what is it to be low ? ' 

Then spake the lily maid of Astolat : 
' Sweet father, all too faint and sick am I 
For anger : these are slanders ; never yet ic 

Was noble man but made ignoble talk. 
He makes no friend who never made a foe. 
But now it is my glory to have loved 
One peerless, without stain : so let me pass. 
My father, howsoe'er I seem to you, 
Not all unhappy, having loved God's best 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 35 

And greatest, tho' my love had no return : 

Yet, seeing you desire your child to live, 

Thanks, but you work against your own desire ; 

For if I could believe the things you say 1090 

I should but die the sooner ; wherefore cease, 

Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly man 

Hither, and let me shrive me clean and die.' 

So when the ghostly man had come and gone, 
She, with a face bright as for sin forgiven, 
Besought Lavaine to write as she devised 
A letter, word for word ; and when he ask'd, 
' Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear lord ? 
Then will! bear it gladly;' she replied, 
' For Lancelot and the Queen and all the world, noo 

But I myself must bear it.' Then he wrote 
The letter she devised ; which being writ 
And folded, ' O sweet father, tender and true. 
Deny me not,' she said — ' ye never yet 
Denied my fancies — this, however strange. 
My latest : lay the letter in my hand 
A little ere I die, and close the hand 
Upon it ; I shall guard it even in death. 
And when the heat has gone from out my heart, 
Then take the little bed on which I died is 10 

For Lancelot's love, and deck it like the Queen's 
For richness, and me also like the Queen 
In all I have of rich, and lay me on it. 
And let there be prepared a chariot-bier 
To take me to the river, and a barge 
Be ready on the river, clothed in black, 
I go in state to court, to meet the Queen. 
There surely I shall speak for mine own self. 
And none of you can speak for me so well. 



36 IDYLLS OF TILE LCLNG. 

And therefore let our dumb old man alone 
Go with me ; he can steer and row, and he 
Will guide me to that palace, to the doors.' 

She ceased : her father promised ; whereupon 
She grew so cheerful that they deem'd her death 
Was rather in the fantasy than the blood. 
But ten slow mornings past, and on the eleventh 
Her father laid the letter in her hand, 
And closed the hand upon it, and she died. 
So that day there was dole in Astolat, 

But when the next sun brake from underground, 
Then, those two brethren slowly with bent brows 
Accompanying, the sad chariot-bier 
Past like a shadow thro' the field, that shone 
Full-summer, to that stream whereon the barge, 
Pall'd all its length in blackest samite, lay. 
There sat the lifelong creature of the house, 
Loyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck. 
Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face. 
So those two brethren from the chariot took 
And on the black decks laid her in her bed, 
Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung 
The silken case with braided blazonings. 
And kiss'd her quiet brows, and saying to her, 
* Sister, farewell forever,' and again, 
' Farewell, sweet sister,' parted all in tears. 
Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead, 
Oar'd by the dumb, went upward with the flood — 
In her right hand the lily, in her left 
The letter — all her bright hair streaming down — 
And all the coverlid was cloth of gold 
Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 3/ 

All but her face, and that clear-featured face 
Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead, 
But fast asleep, and lay as tho' she smiled. 

That day Sir Lancelot at the palace craved 
Audience of Guinevere, to give at last 
The price of half a realm, his costly gift, 
Hard-won and hardly won with bruise and blow, 
With deaths of others, and almost his own, 
The nine-years-fought-for diamonds ; for he saw 1160 

One of her house, and sent him to the Queen 
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen agreed 
With such and so unmoved a majesty 
She might have seem'd her statue, but that he, 
Low-drooping till he wellnigh kiss'd her feet 
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye 
The shadow of some piece of pointed lace, 
In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on the walls, 
And parted, laughing in his courtly heart. 

All in an oriel on the summer side, 1170 

Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace toward the stream, 
They met, and Lancelot kneeling utter'd : ' Queen, 
Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy. 
Take, what I had not won except for you, 
These jewels, and make me happy, making them 
An armlet for the roundest arm on earth. 
Or necklace for a neck to which the swan's 
Is tawnier than her cygnet's : these are words ; 
Your beauty is your beauty, and I sin 

In speaking, yet O, grant my worship of it nSo 

Words, as we grant grief tears. Such sin in words 
.Perchance, we both can pardon j but, my Queen, 
I hear of rumors flying thro' your court. 



38 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife, 
Should have in it an absoluter trust 
To make up that defect : let rumors be : 
When did not rumors fly ? these, as I trust 
That you trust me in your own nobleness, 
I may not well believe that you believe.' 

While thus he spoke, half turn'd away, the Queen 
Brake from the vast oriel-embowering vine 
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast them off. 
Till all the place whereon she stood was green ; 
Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive hand 
Received at once and laid aside the gems 
There on a table near her, and replied : 

' It may be I am quicker of belief 
Than you believe me, Lancelot of the Lake. 
Our bond is not the bond of man and wife. 
This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill. 
It can be broken easier. I for you 
This many a year have done despite and wrong 
To one whom ever in my heart of hearts 
I did acknowledge nobler. What are these ? 
Diamonds for me ! they had been thrice their worth 
Being your gift, had you not lost your own. 
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts 
Must vary as the giver's. Not for me ! 
For her ! for your new fancy. Only this 
Grant me, I pray you : have your joys apart. 
I doubt not that, however changed, you keep 
So much of what is graceful : and myself 
Would shun to break those bounds of courtesy 
In which as Arthur's Queen I move and rule ; 
So cannot speak my mind. An end to this ! 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 39 

A Strange one ! yet I take it with Amen. 

So pray you, add my diamonds to her pearls ; 

Deck her with these ; tell her, she shines me down : 

An armlet for an arm to which the Queen's 

Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck 1220 

O, as much fairer — as a faith once fair 

Was richer than these diamonds — hers not mine — 

Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself. 

Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will — 

She shall not have them,' 

Saying which she seized, 
And, thro' the casement standing wide for heat, 
Flung them, and down they flash'd, and smote the stream. 
Then from the smitten surface flash'd, as it were. 
Diamonds to meet them, and they past away. 
Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disdain 1230 

At love, life, all things, on the window ledge, 
Close underneath his eyes, and right across 
Where these had fallen, slowly past the barge 
Whereon the lily maid of Astolat 
Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night. 

But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away 
To weep and wail in secret ; and the barge, , 

On to the palace-doorw^ay sliding, paused. 
There two stood arm'd, and kept the door ; to whom, 
All up the marble stair, tier over tier, 1240 

Were added mouths that gaped, and eyes that ask'd, 
' What is it ? ' but that oarsman's haggard face. 
As hard and still as is the face that men 
Shape to their fancy's eye from broken rocks 
On some cliff-side, appall'd them, and they said : 
' He is enchanted, cannot speak — and she, 



40 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen, so fair ! 

Yea, but how pale ! what are they ? flesh and blood ? 

Or come to take the King to Fairyland ? 

For some do hold our Arthur cannot die, 1250 

But that he passes into Fairyland.' 

While thus they babbled of the King, the King 
Came girt with knights : then turn'd the tongueless man 
From the half-face to the full eye, and rose 
And pointed to the damsel and the doors. 
So Arthur bade the meek Sir Percivale 
And pure Sir Galahad to uplift the maid ; 
And reverently they bore her into hall. 
Then came the fine Gawain and wonder'd at her, 
And Lancelot later came and mused at her, 1260 

And last the Queen herself, and pitied her ; 
But Arthur spied the letter in her hand, 
Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it ; this was all : 

' Most noble lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake, 
I, sometime call'd the maid of Astolat, 
Come, for you left me taking no farewell. 
Hither, to take my last farewell of you. 
I loved you, and my love had no return, 
And therefore my true love has been my death. 
And therefore to our Lady Guinevere, 1270 

And to all other ladies, I make moan : 
Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. 
Pray for my soul thou too, Sir Lancelot, 
As thou art a knight peerless.' 

Thus he read ; 
And ever in the reading lords and dames 
Wept, looking often from his face who read 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 4 1 

To hers which lay so silent, and at times, 

So touch'd were they, half-thinking that her Hps 

Who had devised the letter moved again. 

Then freely spoke Sir Lancelot to them all : 1280 

* My lord liege Arthur, and all ye that hear, 
Know that for this most gentle maiden's death 
Right heavy am I j for good she was and true, 
But loved me with a love beyond all love 
In women, whomsoever I have known. 
Yet to be loved makes not to love again ; 
Not at my years, however it hold in youth. 
I swear by truth and knighthood that I gave 
No cause, not willingly, for such a love. 
To this I call my friends in testimony, 1290 

Her brethren, and her father, who himself 
Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use, 
To break her passion, some discourtesy 
Against my nature : what I could, I did. 
I left her and I bade her no farewell ; 
Tho', had I dreamt the damsel would have died, 
I might have put my wits to some rough use, 
And help'd her from herself.' 

Then said the Queen — 
Sea was her wrath, yet working after storm : 
' Ye might at least have done her so much grace, 1300 

Fair lord, as would have help'd her from her death.' 
He raised his head, their eyes met and hers fell, 
He adding : 

' Queen, she would not be content 
Save that I wedded her, which could not be. 
Then might she follow me thro' the world, she ask'd ; 
It could not be. I told her that her love 



42 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Was but the flash of youth, would darken down, 
To rise hereafter in a stiller flame 
Toward one more worthy of her — then would I, 
More specially were he she wedded poor, 
Estate them with large land and territory 
In mine own realm beyond the narrow seas, 
To keep them in all joyance : more than this 
I could not ; this she would not, and she died.' 

He pausing, Arthur answer'd : ' O my knight, 
It will be to thy worship, as my knight, 
And mine, as head of all our Table Round, 
To see that she be buried worshipfuUy.' 

So toward that shrine which then in all the realm 
Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went 
The marshall'd Order of their Table Round, 
And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to see 
The maiden buried, not as one unknown. 
Nor meanly, but witli gorgeous obsequies, 
And mass, and rolling music, like a queen. 
And when the knights had laid her comely head 
Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings. 
Then Arthur spake among them : ' Let her tomb 
Be costly, and her image thereupon, 
And let the shield of Lancelot at her feet 
Be carven, and her lily in her hand. 
And let the story of her dolorous voyage 
For all true hearts be blazon'd on her tomb 
In letters gold and azure ! ' which was wrought 
Thereafter ; but when now the lords and dames 
And people, from the high' door streaming, brake 
Disorderly, as homeward each, the Queen, 
Who mark'd Sir Lancelot where he moved apart, 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 43 

Drew near, and sigh'd in passing, ' Lancelot, 

Forgive me ; mine was jealousy in love.' 1340 

He answer'd with his eyes upon the ground, 

' That is love's curse ; pass on, my Queen, forgiven.' 

But Arthur, who beheld his cloudy brows, 

Approach'd him, and with full affection said : 

' Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I have 
Most joy and most affiance, for I know 
What thou hast been in battle by my side. 
And many a time have watch'd thee at the tilt 
Strike down the lusty and long practised knight 
And let the younger and unskill'd go by 1350 

To win his honor and to make his name, 
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man 
Made to be loved ; but now I would to God, 
Seeing the homeless trouble in thine eyes, 
Thou couldst have loved this maiden, shaped, it seems, 
By God for thee alone, and from her face. 
If one may judge the living by the dead, 
Delicately pure and marvellously fair, 
Who might have brought thee, now a lonely man 
Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons 1360 

Born to the glory of thy name and fame. 
My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the Lake.' 

Then answer'd Lancelot : ' Fair she was, my King, 
Pure, as you ever wish your knights to be. 
To doubt her fairness were to want an eye, 
To doubt her pureness were to want a heart — 
Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love 
Could bind him, but free love will not be bound.' 

' Free love, so bound, were freest,' said the King. 
' Let love be free ; free love is for the best : 1,70 



44 IDYLLS VF THE KING. 

And, after heaven, on our dull side of death, 
What should be best, if not so pure a love 
Clothed in so pure a loveliness? yet thee 
She fail'd to bind, tho' being, as I think, 
Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I know.' 

And Lancelot answer'd nothing, but he went. 
And at the inrunning of a little brook 
Sat by the river in a cove, and watch'd 
The high reed wave, and lifted up his eyes 
And saw the barge that brought her moving down, ; 1380 
Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and said 
Low in himself : ' Ah, simple heart and sweet, 
Ye loved me, damsel, surely with a love 
Far tenderer than my Queen's. Pray for thy soul ? 
Ay, that will I. Farewell too — now at last — 
Farewell, fair lily. " Jealousy in love ? " 
Not rather dead love's harsh heir, jealous pride ? 
Queen, if I grant the jealousy as of love. 
May not your crescent fear for name and fame 
Speak, as it waxes, of a love that wanes } 1390 

Why did the King dwell on my name to me ? 
Mine own name shames me, seeming a reproach, 
Lancelot, whom the Lady of the Lake 
Caught from his mother's arms — the wondrous one 
Who passes thro' the vision of the night — 
She chanted snatches of mysterious hymns 
Heard on the winding waters, eve and morn 
She kiss'd me saying, " Thou art fair, my child, 
As a king's son," and often in her arms 
She bare me, pacing on the dusky mere. 1400 

Would she had drown'd me in it, where'er it be ! 
For what am I ? what profits me my name 
Of greatest knight ? I fought for it, and have it : 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 45 

Pleasure to have it, none ; to lose it, pain : 

Now grown a part of me : but what use in it ? 

To make men worse by making my sin known ? 

Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great ? 

Alas for Arthur's greatest knight, a man 

Not after Arthur's heart ! I needs must break 

These bonds that so defame me : not without 1410 

She wills it : would I, if she will'd it ? nay. 

Who knows ? but if I would not, then may God, 

I pray him, send a sudden angel down 

To seize me by the hair and bear me far, 

And fling me deep in that forgotten mere. 

Among the tumbled fragments of the hills.' 

So groan'd Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain, 
Not knowing he should die a holy man. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 

From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done 

In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale 

Whom Arthur and his knighthood call'd the Pure, 

Had past into the silent life of prayer, 

Praise, fast, and alms ; and leaving for the cowl 

The helmet in an abbey far away 

From Camelot, there, and not long after, died. 

And one, a fellow-monk among the rest, 
Ambrosius, loved him much beyond the rest, 
And honor'd him, and wrought into his heart 
A way by love that waken'd love within. 
To answer that which came : and as they sat 
Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening half 
The cloisters, on a gustful April morn 
That puff'd the swaying branches into smoke 
Above them, ere the summer when he died, 
The monk Ambrosius question'd Percivale : 

' O brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke^ 
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years ; 
For never have I known the world without. 
Nor ever stray'd beyond the pale : but thee, 
When first thou camest — such a courtesy 
Spake thro' the limbs and in the voice — I knew 
For one of those who eat in Arthur's hall ; 
For good ye are and bad, and like to coins. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 47 

Some true, some light, but every one of you 
Stamp'd with the image of the King ; and now 
Tell me, what drove thee from the Table Round, 
My brother ? was it earthly passion crost ? ' 

' Nay,' said the knight ; ' for no such passion mine. 30 

But the sweet vision of the Holy Grail 
Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries, 
And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out 
Among us in the jousts, while women watch 
Who wins, who falls ; and waste the spiritual strength 
Within us, better offer'd up to Heaven.' 

To whom the monk : * The Holy Grail ! — I trust 
We are green in Heaven's eyes ; but here too much 
We moulder — as to things without I mean — 
Yet one of your own knights, a guest of ours, 40 

Told us of this in our refectory. 
But spake with such a sadness and so low 
We heard not half of what he said. What is it ? 
The phantom of a cup that comes and goes ? ' 

' Nay, monk ! what phantom ? ' answer'd Percivale. 
'The -cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord 
Drank at the last sad supper with his own. 
This, from the blessed land of Aromat — 
After the day of darkness, when the dead 
Went wandering o'er Moriah — the good saint, 50 

Arimathasan Joseph, journeying brought 
To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn 
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. 
And there awhile it bode ; and if a man 
Could touch or see it, he was heal'd at once, 
By faith, of all his ills. But then the times 



48 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Grew to such evil that the holy cup 

Was caught away to heaven, and disappear'd.' 

To whom the monk : ' From our old books I know 
That Joseph came of old to Glastonbury, 
And there the heathen Prince, Arviragus, 
Gave him an isle of marsh whereon to build ; 
And there he built with wattles from the marsh 
A little lonely church in days of yore, 
For so they say, these books of ours, but seem 
Mute of this miracle, far as I have read. 
But who first saw the holy thing to-day ? ' 

' A woman,' answer'd Percivale, ' a nun, 
And one no further off in blood from me 
Than sister ; and if ever holy maid 
With knees of adoration wore the stone, 
A holy maid ; tho' never maiden glow'd. 
But that was in her earlier maidenhood. 
With such a fervent flame of human love. 
Which, being rudely blunted, glanced and shot 
Only to holy things ; to prayer and praise 
She gave herself, to fast and alms. And yet. 
Nun as she was, the scandal of the Court, 
Sin against Arthur and the Table Round, 
And the strange sound of an adulterous race, 
Across the iron grating of her cell 
Beat, and she pray'd and fasted all the more. 

' And he to whom she told her sins, or what 
Her all but utter whiteness held for sin, 
A man wellnigh a hundred winters old, 
Spake often with her of the Holy Grail, 
A legend handed down thro' five or six. 



I 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 

And each of these a hundred winters old, 

From our Lord's tune. And when King Arthur made 

His Table Round, and all men's hearts became 

Clean for a season, surely he had thought 

That now the Holy Grail would come again ; 

But sin broke out. Ah, Christ, that it would come, 

And heal the world of all their wickedness ! 

" O Father ! " ask'd the maiden, " might it come 

To me by prayer and fasting ? " " Nay," said he, 

" I know not, for thy heart is pure as snow." 

And so she pray'd and fasted, till the sun 

Shone, and the wind blew, thro' her, and I thought 

She might have risen and floated when I saw her. 

' For on a day she sent to speak with me. 
And when she came to speak, behold her eyes 
Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful. 
Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful, 
Beautiful in the light of holiness ! 
And " O my brother Percivale," she said, 
" Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail : 
For, waked at dead of night, I heard a sound 
As of a silver horn from o'er the hills 
Blown, and I thought, ' It is not Arthur's use 
To hunt by moonlight ; ' and the slender sound 
As from a distance beyond distance grew 
Coming upon me — O never harp nor horn, 
Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand, 
Was like that music as it came ; and then 
Stream'd thro' my cell a cold and silver beam, 
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail, 
Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive. 
Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed 
With rosy colors leaping on the wall ; 

VOL. II. 



49 



50 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And then the music faded, and the Grail 
Past, and the beam decay'd, and from the walls 
The rosy quiverings died into the night. 
So now the Holy Thing is here again 
Among us, brother, fast thou too and pray, 
And tell thy brother knights to fast and pray, 
That so perchance the vision may be seen 
By thee and those, and all the world be heal'd." 

' Then leaving the pale nun, I spake of this 
To all men ; and myself fasted and pray'd 
Always, and many among us many a week 
Fasted and pray'd even to the uttermost, 
Expectant of the wonder that would be. 

' And one there was among us, ever moved 
Among us in white armor, Galahad. 
" God make thee good as thou art beautiful ! " 
Said Arthur, when he dubb'd him knight ; and none 
In so young youth was ever made a knight - 
Till Galahad ; and this Galahad, when he heard 
My sister's vision, fill'd me with amaze ; 
His eyes became so like her own, they seem'd 
Hers, and himself her brother more than I. 

* Sister or brother none had he ; but some 
Call'd him a son of Lancelot, and some said 
Begotten by enchantment — chatterers they, 
Like birds of passage piping up and down, 
That gape for flies — we know not whence they come ; 
For when was Lancelot wanderingly lewd ? 

' But she, the wan sweet maiden, shore away 
Clean from her forehead all that wealth of hair 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 5 1 

Which made ?. silken mat-work for her feet ; 

And out of this she plaited broad and long 

A strong, sword-belt, and wove with silver thread 

And crimson in the belt a strange device, 

A crimson grail within a silver beam ; 

And saw the bright boy-knight, and bound it on him, 

Saying : " My knight, my love, my knight of heaven, 

O thou, my love, whose love is one with mine, 

I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind my belt. 

Go forth, for thou shalt see what I have seen, i6o 

And break thro' all, till one will crown thee king 

Far in the spiritual city : " and as she spake 

She sent the deathless passion in her eyes 

Thro' him, and made him hers, and laid her mind 

On him, and he believed in her belief. 

' Then came a year of miracle : O brother, 
In our great hall there stood a vacant chair, 
Fashion'd by Merlin ere he past away. 
And carven with strange figures ; and in and out 
The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll 170 

Of letters in a tongue no man could read. 
And Merlin call'd it " the Siege Perilous," 
Perilous for good and ill ; " for there," he said, 
" No man could sit but he should lose himself : " 
And once by misadvertence Merlin sat 
In his own chair, and so was lost ; but he, 
Galahad, when he heard of Merlin's doom. 
Cried, " If I lose myself, I save myself ! " 

' Then on a summer night it came to pass, 
While the great banquet lay along the hall, 180 

That Galahad would sit down in Merlin's chair. 



52 IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

' And all at once, as there we sat, we heard 
A cracking and a riving of the roofs, 
And rending, and a blast, and overhead 
Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. 
And in the blast there smote along the hall 
A beam of light seven times more clear than day ; 
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail 
All over cover'd with a luminous cloud, 
And none might see who bare it, and it past. 
But every knight beheld his fellow's face 
As in a glory, and all the knights arose. 
And staring each at other like dumb men 
Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow. 

' I sware a vow before them all, that I, 
Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride 
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it. 
Until I found and saw it, as the nun 
My sister saw it ; and Galahad sware the vow, 
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's cousin, sware, 
And Lancelot sware, and many among the knights, 
And Gawain sware, and louder than the rest.' 

Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking him, 
' What said the King ? Did Arthur take the vow ? 

' Nay, for my lord,' said Percivale, ' the King, 
Was not in hall : for early that same day. 
Scaped thro' a cavern from a bandit bold. 
An outraged maiden sprang into the hall 
Crying on help : for all her shining hair 
Was smear'd with earth, and either milky arm 
Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she wore 
Torn as a sail that leaves the rope is torn 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 53 

In tempest : so the King arose and went 

To smoke the scandalous hive of those wild bees 

That made such honey in his realm. Howbeit 

Some little of this marvel he too saw, 

Returning o'er the plain that then began 

To darken under Camelot ; whence the King 

Look'd up, calling aloud, " Lo, there ! the roofs 

Of our great hall are roU'd in thunder-smoke ! 220 

Pray Heaven, they be not smitten by the bolt ! " 

For dear to Arthur was that hall of ours, 

As having there so oft with all his knights 

Feasted, and as the stateliest under heaven. 

' O brother, had you known our mighty hall, 
Which Merlin built for Arthur long ago ! 
For all the sacred mount of Camelot, 
And all the dim rich city, roof by roof. 
Tower after tower, spire beyond spire, 

By grove, and garden-lawn, and rushing brook, 230 

Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built. 
And four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt 
With many a mystic symbol, gird the hall : 
And in the lowest beasts are slaying men. 
And in the second men are slaying beasts. 
And on the third are warriors, perfect men, 
And on the fourth are men with growing wings, 
And over all one statue in the mould 
Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown, 
And peak'd wings pointed to the Northern Star. 240 

And eastward fronts the statue, and the crown 
And both the wings are made of gold, and flame 
At sunrise till the people in far fields, 
Wasted so often by the heathen hordes. 
Behold it, crying, " We have still a king." 



54 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

' And, brother, had you known our hall within, 
Broader and higher than any in all the lands ! 
Where twelve great windows blazon Arthur's wars, 
And all the light that falls upon the board 
Streams thro' the twelve great battles of our King. 250 

Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end. 
Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere, 
Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur. 
And also one to the west, and counter to it. 
And blank : and who shall blazon it? when and how ? — 
O, there, perchance, when all our wars are done, 
The brand Excalibur will be cast away ! 

' So to this hall full quickly rode the King, 
In horror lest the work by Merlin wrought, 
Dreamlike, should on the sudden vanish, wrapt 260 

In unremorseful folds of rolling fire. 
And in he rode, and up I glanced, and saw 
The golden dragon sparkling over all ; 
And many of those who burnt the hold, their arms 
Hack'd, and their foreheads grimed with smoke and sear'd, 
Follow'd, and in among bright faces, ours. 
Full of the vision, prest : and then the King 
Spake to me, being nearest, "Percivale," — 
Because the hall was all in tumult — some 
Vowing, and some protesting, — " what is this .'' " 270 

' O brother, when I told him what had chanced, 
My sister's vision and the rest, his face 
Darken'd, as I have seen it more than once. 
When some brave deed seem'd to be done in vain, 
Darken ; and " Woe is me, my knights," he cried, 
"Had I been here, ye had not sworn the vow." 
Bold was mine answer, " Had thyself been here, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 55 

My King, thou wouldst have sworn." "Yea, yea," said he, 
"Art thou so bold and hast not seen the Grail?" 



' " Nay, lord, I heard the sound, I saw the light, 
But since I did not see the holy thing, 
I sware a vow to follow it till I saw." 

' Then when he ask'd us, knight by knight, if any 
Had seen it, all their answers were as one : 
" Nay, lord, and therefore have we sworn our vows." 

' "Lo, now," said Arthur, "have ye seen a cloud? 
What go ye into the wilderness to see ? " 

'Then Galahad on the sudden, and in a voice 
Shrilling along the hall to Arthur, call'd, 
" But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy Grail, 
I saw the Holy Grail and heard a cry — 
" O Galahad, and O Galahad, follow me." ' 

'"Ah, Galahad, Galahad," said the King, "for such 
As thou art is the vision, not for these. 
Thy holy nun and thou have seen a sign — 
Holier is none, my Percivale, than she — 
A sign to maim this Order which I made. 
But ye that follow but the leader's bell," — 
Brother, the King was hard upon his knights, — 
" Taliessin is our fullest throat of song. 
And one hath sung and all the dumb will sing. 
Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath overborne 
Five knights at once, and every younger knight, 
Unproven, holds himself as Lancelot, 
Till overborne by one, he learns — and ye. 
What are ye ? Galahads ? — no, nor Percivales " — 



56 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

For thus it pleased the King to range me close 

After Sir Galahad j — " nay," said he, " but men 

With strength and will to right the wrong'd, of power 

To lay the sudden heads of violence flat, 310 

Knights that in twelve great battles splash'd and dyed 

The strong White Horse in his own heathen blood — 

But one hath seen, and all the blind will see. 

Go, since your vows are sacred, being made : 

Yet — for ye know the cries of all my realm 

Pass thro' this hall — how often, O my knights, 

Your places being vacant at my side, 

This chance of noble deeds will come and go 

Unchallenged, while ye follow wandering fires 

Lost in the quagmire ! Many of you, yea most, 320 

Return no more : ye think I show myself 

Too dark a prophet : come now, let us meet 

The morrow morn once more in one full field 

Of gracious pastime, that once more the King, 

Before ye leave him for this quest, may count 

The yet-unbroken strength of all his knights. 

Rejoicing in that Order which he made." 

' So when the sun broke next from underground. 
All the great Table of our Arthur closed 
And clash'd in such a tourney and so full, 330 

So many lances broken — never yet 
Had Camelot seen the like since Arthur came ; 
And I myself and Galahad, for a strength 
Was in us from the vision, overthrew 
So many knights that all the people cried, 
And almost burst the barriers in their heat, 
Shouting, " Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale ! " 

' But when the next day brake from underground — 
O brother, had you known our Camelot, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 57 

Built by old kings, age after age, so old 340 

The King himself had fears that it would fall, 

So strange, and rich, and dim ; for where the roofs 

Totter'd toward each other in the sky, 

Met foreheads all along the street of those 

Who watch'd us pass ; and lower, and where the long 

Rich galleries, lady-laden, weigh'd,the necks 

Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls. 

Thicker than drops from thunder, showers of flowers 

Fell as we past ; and men and boys astride 

On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan, 3so 

At all the corners, named us each by name, 

Calling " God speed ! " but in the ways below 

The knights and ladies wept, and rich and poor 

Wept, and the King himself could hardly speak 

For grief, and all in middle street the Queen, 

Who rode by Lancelot, wail'd and shriek'd aloud, 

"This madness has come on us for our sins." 

So to the Gate of the Three Queens we came. 

Where Arthur's wars are render'd mystically. 

And thence departed every one his way. 360 

'And I was lifted up in heart, and thought 
Of all my late-shown prowess in the lists. 
How my strong lance had beaten down the knights. 
So many and famous names ; and never yet 
Had heaven appear'd so blue, nor earth so green. 
For all my blood danced in me, and I knew 
That I should light upon the Holy Grail. 

' Thereafter, the dark warning of our King, 
That most of us would follow wandering fires. 
Came like a driving gloom across my mind. ' 370 

Then every evil word I had spoken once, 



58 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And every evil thought I had thought of old, 

And every evil deed I ever did, 

Awoke and cried, " This quest is not for thee.'' 

And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself 

Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns, 

And I was thirsty even unto death ; 

And I, too, cried, " This quest is not for thee." 

' And on I rode, and when I thought my thirst 
Would slay me, saw deep lawns, and then a brook, 380 

With one sharp rapid, where the crisping white 
Play'd ever back upon the sloping wave 
And took both ear and eye ; and o'er the brook 
Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook 
Fallen, and on the lawns. " I will rest here," 
I said, " I am not worthy of the quest ; " 
But even while I drank the brook, and ate 
The goodly apples, all these things at once 
Fell into dust, and I was left alone 
And thirsting in a land of sand and thorns. 390 

' And then behold a woman at a door 
Spinning ; and fair the house whereby she sat, 
And kind the woman's eyes and innocent, 
And all her bearing gracious ; and she rose 
Opening her arms to meet me, as who should say, 
" Rest here ; " but when I touch'd her, lo ! she, too, 
Fell into dust and nothing, and the house 
Became no better than a broken shed, 
And in it a dead babe ; and also this 
Fell into dust, and I was left alone. 400 

' And on I rode, and greater was my thirst. 
Then flash'd a yellow gleam across the world, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 59 

And where it smote the plowshare in the field 

The plowman left his plowing and fell down 

Before it ; where it glitter'd on her pail 

The milkmaid left her milking, and fell down 

Before it, and I knew not why, but thought 

'' The sun is rising," tho' the sun had risen. 

Then was I ware of one that on me moved 

In golden armor with a crown of gold 410 

About a casque all jewels, and his horse 

In golden armor jewelled everywhere : 

And on the splendor came, flashing me blind, 

And seem'd to me the lord of all the world. 

Being so huge. But when I thought he meant 

To crush me, moving on me, lo ! he, too, 

Open'd his arms to embrace me as he came. 

And up I went and touch'd him, and he, too, 

Fell into dust, and I was left alone 

And wearying in a land of sand and thorns. 420 

' And I rode on and found a mighty hill, 
And on the top a city wall'd : the spires 
Prick'd with incredible pinnacles into heaven. 
And by the gateway stirr'd a crowd ; and these 
Cried to me climbing, " Welcome, Percivale ! 
Thou mightiest and thou purest among men ! " 
And glad was I and clomb, but found at top 
No man, nor any voice. And thence I past 
Far thro' a ruinous city, and I saw 

That man had once dwelt there ; but there I found 430 

Only one man of an exceeding age. 
" Where is that goodly company," said I, 
" That so cried out upon me ? " and he had 
Scarce any voice to answer, and yet gasp'd, 
" Whence and what art thou ? " and even as he spoke 



6o IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Fell into dust and disappear'd, and I 

Was left alone once more and cried in grief, 

" Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself 

And touch it, it will crumble into dust ! " 

' And thence I dropt into a lowly vale, 440 

Low as the hill was high, and where the vale 
Was lowest found a chapel, and thereby 
A holy hermit in a hermitage. 
To whom I told my phantoms, and he said : 

' " O son, thou hast not true humility, 
The highest virtue, mother of them all ; 
For when the Lord of all things made Himself 
Naked of glory for his mortal change, 
'Take thou my robe,' she said, 'for all is thine,' 
And all her form shone forth with sudden light 450 

So that the angels were amazed, and she 
Follow'd Him down, and like a flying star 
Led on the gray-hair'd wisdom of the east ; 
But her thou hast not known : for what is this 
Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins ? 
Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself 
As Galahad." When the hermit made an end, 
In silver armor suddenly Galahad shone 
Before us, and against the chapel door 

Laid lance and enter'd, and we knelt in prayer. 460 

And there the hermit slaked my burning thirst. 
And at the sacring of the mass I saw 
The holy elements alone ; but he, 
" Saw ye no more ? I, Galahad, saw the Grail, 
The Holy Grail, descend upon the shrine : 
I saw the fiery face as of a child 
That smote itself into the bread and went ; 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 6 1 

And hither am I come ; and never yet 

Hath what thy sister taught me first to see, 

This holy thing, fail'd from my side, nor come 470 

Cover' d, but moving with me night and day, 

Fainter by day, but always in the night 

Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken'd marsh 

Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top 

Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere below 

Blood-red. And in the strength of this I rode, 

Shattering all evil customs everywhere, 

And past thro' Pagan realms, and made them mine, 

And clash'd with Pagan hordes, and bore them down, 

And broke thro' all, and in the strength of this 480 

Come victor. But my time is hard at hand, 

And hence I go ; and one will crown me king 

Far in the spiritual city ; and come thou, too. 

For thou shalt see the vision when I go." 

' While thus he spakcj his eye, dwelling on mine, 
Drew me, with power upon me, till I grew 
One with him, to believe as he believed. 
Then, when the day began to wane, we went. 

' There rose a hill that none but man could climb, 
Scarr'd with a hundred wintry water-courses — 490 

Storm at the top, and when we gain'd it, storm 
Round us and death j for every moment glanced 
His silver arms and gloom'd : so quick and thick 
The lightnings here and there to left and right 
Struck, till the dry old trunks about us, dead. 
Yea, rotten with a hundred years of death, 
Sprang into fire : and at the base we found 
On either hand, as far as eye could see, 
A great black swamp and of an evil smell, 



62 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Part black, part whiten'd with the bones of men, 

Not to be crost, save that some ancient king 

Had built a way, where, link'd with many a bridge, 

A thousand piers ran into the great Sea. 

And Galahad fled along them bridge by bridge, 

And every bridge as quickly as he crost 

Sprang into fire and vanish'd, tho' I yearn'd 

To follow; and thrice above him all the heavens 

Open'd and blazed with thunder such as seem'd 

Shoutings of all the sons of God : and first 

At once I saw him far on the great Sea, 

In silver-shining armor starry-clear; 

And o'er his head the Holy Vessel hung 

Clothed in white samite or a luminous cloud. 

And with exceeding swiftness ran the boat, 

If boat it were — I saw not whence it came. 

And when the heavens open'd and blazed again 

Roaring, I saw him like a silver star — 

And had he set the sail, or had the boat 

Become a living creature clad with wings ? 

And o'er his head the Holy Vessel hung 

Redder than any rose, a joy to me. 

For now I knew the veil had been withdrawn. 

Then in a moment when they blazed again 

Opening, I saw the least of little stars 

Down on the waste, and straight beyond the star 

I saw the spiritual city and all her spires 

And gateways in a glory like one pearl — 

No larger, tho' the goal of all the saints — 

Strike from the sea ; and from the star there shot 

A rose-red sparkle to the city, and there 

Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy Grail, 

Which never eyes on earth again shall see. 

Then fell the floods of heaven drowning the deep, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 63 

And how my feet recrost the deathful ridge 
No memory in me lives ; but that I touch'd 
The chapel-doors at dawn I know ; and thence 
Taking my war-horse from the holy man, 
Glad that no phantom vext me more, return'd 
To whence I came, the gate of Arthur's wars.' 



' O brother,' ask'd Ambrosius, — ' for in sooth 
These ancient books — and they would win thee — teem, 
Only I find not there this Holy Grail, 
With miracles and marvels like to these, 
Not all unlike ; which oftentime I read. 
Who read but -on my breviary with ease, 
Till my head swims, and then go forth and pass 
Down to the little thorpe that lies so close, 
And almost plaster'd like a martin's nest 
To these old walls — and mingle with our folk ; 
And knowing every honest face of theirs 
As well as ever shepherd knew his sheep, 
And every homely secret in their hearts. 
Delight myself with gossip and old wives, 
And ills and aches, and teethings, lyings-in, 
And mirthful sayings, children of the place, 
That have no meaning half a league away ; 
Or lulling random squabbles when they rise, 
Chafferings and chatterings at the market-cross, 
Rejoice, small man, in this small world of mine, 
Yea, even in their hens and in their eggs — 
O brother, saving this Sir Galahad, 
Came ye on none but phantoms in your quest, 
No man, no woman ? ' 

Then Sir Percivale : 
' All men, to one so bound by such a vow. 



540 



64 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And women were as phantoms. O, my brother, 

Why wilt thou shame me to confess to thee 

How far I falter'd from m)' quest and vow ? 

For after I had lain so many nights, 

A bed-mate of the snail and eft and snake. 

In grass and burdock, I was changed to wan 570 

And meagre, and the vision had not come ; 

And then I chanced upon a goodly town 

With one great dwelling in the middle of it. 

Thither I made, and there was I disarm'd 

By maidens each as fair as any flower ; 

But when they led me into hall, behold, 

The princess of that castle was the one, 

Brother, and that one only, who had ever 

Made my heart leap ; for when I moved of old 

A slender page about her father's hall, 580 

And she a slender maiden, all my heart 

Went after her with longing, yet we twain 

Had never kiss'd a kiss or vow'd a vow. 

And now I came upon her once again. 

And one had wedded her, and he was dead, 

And all his land and wealth and state were hers. 

And while I tarried, every day she set 

A banquet richer than the day before 

By me, for all her longing and her will 

Was toward me as of old ; till one fair morn, 59° 

I walking to and fro beside a stream 

That fiash'd across her orchard underneath 

Her castle-walls, she stole upon my walk, 

And calling me the greatest of all knights, 

Embraced me, and so kiss'd me the first time, 

And gave herself and all her wealth to me. 

Then I remember'd Arthur's warning word, 

That most of us would follow Meandering fires, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 65 

And the quest faded in my heart. Anon, 

The heads of all her people dreAV to me, 600 

With supplication both of knees and tongue : 

" We have heard of thee : thou art our greatest knight, 

Our Lady says it, and we well believe : 

Wed thou our Lady, and rule over us, 

And thou shalt be as Arthur in our land." 

O me, my brother ! but one night my vow 

Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled. 

But wail'd and wept, and hated mine own self, 

And even the holy quest, and all but her ; 

Then after I was join'd with Galahad 610 

Cared not for her nor anything upon earth.' 

Then said the monk : ' Poor men, when yule is cold, 
Must be content to sit by little fires. 
And this am I, so that ye care for me 
Ever so little ; yea, and blest be Heaven 
That brought thee here to this poor house of ours 
Where all the brethren are so hard, to warm 
My cold heart with a friend : but O the pity 
To find thine own first love once more — to hold, 
Hold her a wealthy bride within thine arms, 620 

Or all but hold, and then — cast her aside, 
Foregoing all her sweetness, like a weed ! 
For we that want the warmth of double life, 
We that are plagued with dreams of something sweet 
Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich, — 
Ah, blessed Lord, I speak too earthly-wise, 
Seeing I never stray'd beyond the cell. 
But live like an old badger in his earth, 
With earth about him everywhere, despite 
All fast and penance. Saw ye none beside, 630 

None of your knights .'' ' 

VOL. II. 



66 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

' Yea, so,' said Percivale : 
' One night my pathway swerving east, I saw 
The pelican on the casque of our Sir Bors 
All in the middle of the rising moon. 
And toward him spurr'd, and hail'd him, and he me, 
And each made joy of either ; then he ask'd : 
" Where is he ? hast thou seen him — Lancelot ? — Once," 
Said good Sir Bors, " he dash'd across me — mad. 
And maddening what he rode ; and when I cried, 
* Ridest thou then so hotly on a quest 640 

So holy ? ' Lancelot shouted, ' Stay me not ! 
I have been the sluggard, and I ride apace, 
For now there is a lion in the way ! ' 
So vanish'd." 

' Then Sir Bors had ridden on 
Softly, and sorrowing for our Lancelot, 
Because his former madness, once the talk 
And scandal of our table, had return'd ; 
For Lancelot's kith and kin so worship him 
That ill to him is ill to them, to Bors 

Beyond the rest : he well had been content 650 

Not to have seen, so Lancelot might have seen, 
The Holy Cup of healing ; and, indeed, 
Being so clouded with his grief and love. 
Small heart was his after the holy quest, 
If God would send the vision, well ; if not. 
The quest and he were in the hands of Heaven. 

' And then, with small adventure met, Sir Bors 
Rode to the lonest tract of all the realm, 
And found a people there among their crags, 
Our race and blood, a remnant that were left 660 

Paynim amid their circles, and the stones 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 6y 

They pitch up straight to heaven ; and their wise men 

Were strong in that old magic which can trace 

The wandering of the stars, and scoff'd at him 

And this high quest as at a simple thing, 

Told him he follow'd — almost Arthur's words — 

A mocking fire : " what other fire than he 

Whereby the blood beats, and the blossom blows, 

And the sea rolls, and all the world is warm'd ? " 

And when his answer chafed them, the rough crowd, 670 

Hearing he had a difference with their priests. 

Seized him, and bound and plunged him into a cell 

Of great piled stones ; and lying bounden there 

In darkness thro' innumerable hours 

He heard the hollow-ringing heavens sweep 

Over him till by miracle — what else ? — 

Heavy as it was, a great stone slipt and fell, 

Such as no wind could move ; and thro' the gap 

Glimmer'd the streaming scud : then came a night 

Still as the day was loud, and thro' the gap 680 

The seven clear stars of Arthur's Table Round — 

For, brother, so one night, because they roll 

Thro' such a round in heaven, we named the stars, 

Rejoicing in ourselves and in our King — 

And these, like bright eyes of familiar friends, 

In on him shone : " And then to me, to me," 

Said good Sir Bors, " beyond all hopes of mine. 

Who scarce had pray'd or ask'd it for myself — 

Across the seven clear stars — O grace to me ! — 

In color like the fingers of a hand 690 

Before a burning taper, the sweet Grail 

Glided and past, and close upon it peal'd 

A sharp quick thunder." Afterwards, a maid, 

Who kept our holy faith among her kin 

In secret, entering, loosed and let him go.' 



68 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

To whom the monk : ' And I remember now 
That pelican on the casque : Sir Bors it was 
Who spake so low and sadly at our board ; 
And mighty reverent at our grace was he : 
A square-set man and honest ; and his eyes, 
An out-door sign of all the warmth within, 
Smiled with his lips — a smile beneath a cloud, 
But heaven had meant it for a sunny one : 
Ay, ay, Sir Bors, who else ? But when ye reach'd 
The city, found ye all your knights return'd, 
Or was there sooth in Arthur's prophecy. 
Tell me, and what said each, and what the King ? ' 

Then answer'd Percivale : ' And that can I, 
Brother, and truly ; since the living words 
Of so great men as Lancelot and our King 
Pass not from door to door and out again. 
But sit within the house. O, when we reach'd 
The city, our horses stumbling as they trode 
On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns, 
Crack'd basilisks, and splinter'd cockatrices, 
And shatter'd talbots, which had left the stones 
Raw that they fell from, brought us to the hall. 

' And there sat Arthur on the dais-throne, 
And those that had gone out upon the quest. 
Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of them, 
And those that had not, stood before the King, 
Who, when he saw me, rose and bade me hail. 
Saying : " A welfare in thine eyes reproves 
Our fear of some disastrous chance for thee 
On hill or plain, at sea or flooding ford. 
So fierce a gale made havoc here of late 
Among the strange devices of our kings, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 69 

Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall of ours. 

And from the statue Merlin moulded for us 

Half-wrench'd a golden wing ; but now — the quest, 730 

This vision — hast thou seen the Holy Cup, 

That Joseph brought of old to Glastonbury?" 

' So when I told him all thyself hast heard, 
Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt resolve 
To pass away into the quiet life, 
He answer'd not, but, sharply turning, ask'd 
Of Gawain, " Gawain, was this quest for thee ? " 

' " Nay, lord," said Gawain, " not for such as L 
Therefore I communed with a saintly man. 
Who made me sure the quest was not for me ; 740 

For I was much a-wearied of the quest. 
But found a silk pavilion in a field. 
And merry maidens in it ; and then this gale 
Tore my pavilion from the ten ting-pin, 
And blew my merry maidens all about 
With all discomfort ; yea, and but for this, 
My twelvemonth and a day were pleasant to me." 

'He ceased ; and Arthur turn'd to whom at first 
He saw not, for Sir Bors, on entering, push'd 
Athwart the throng to Lancelot, caught his hand, 750 

Held it, and there, half-hidden by him, stood, 
Until the King espied him, saying to him, 
" Hail, Bors ! if ever loyal man and true 
Could see it, thou hast seen the Grail ; " and Bors, 
" Ask me not, for I may not speak of it : 
I saw it ; " and the tears were in his eyes. 

'Then there remain'd but Lancelot, for the rest 
Spake but of sundry perils in the storm ; 



70 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ, 
Our Arthur kept his best until the last ; 760 

" Thou, too, my Lancelot," ask'd the King, " my friend. 
Our mightiest, hath this quest avail'd for thee ? " 

' " Our mightiest ! " answer'd Lancelot, with a groan ; 
" O King ! " — and when he paused methought I spied 
A dying fire of madness in his eyes — 
" O King, my friend, if friend of thine I be, 
Happier are those that welter in their sin, 
Swine in the mud, that cannot see for slime, 
Slime of the ditch ; but in me lived a sin 
So strange, of such a kind, that all of pure, 770 

Noble, and knightly in me twined and clung 
Round that one sin, until the wholesome flower 
And poisonous grew together, each as each. 
Not to be pluck'd asunder ; and when thy knights 
Sware, I sware with them only in the hope 
That could I touch or see the Holy Grail 
They might be pluck'd asunder. Then I spake 
To one most holy saint, who wept and said 
That, save they could be pluck'd asunder, all 
My quest were but in vain ; to whom I vow'd 780 

That I would work according as he will'd. 
And forth I went, and while I yearn'd and strove 
To tear the twain asunder in my heart, 
My madness came upon me as of old. 
And whipt me into waste fields far away. 
There was I beaten down by little men, - 
Mean knights, to whom the moving of my sword 
And shadow of my spear had been enow 
To scare them from me once ; and then I came 
All in my folly to the naked shore, 790 

Wide flats, where nothing but coarse grasses grew,; 



THE HOLY GRAIL. /I 

But such a blast, my King, began to blow, 

So loud a blast along the shore and sea. 

Ye could not hear the waters for the blast, 

Tho' heapt in mounds and ridges all the sea 

Drove like a cataract, and all the sand 

Swept like a river, and the clouded heavens 

Were shaken with the motion and the sound. 

And blackening in the sea-foam sway'd a boat, 

Half-swallow'd in it, anchor'd with a chain ; Soo 

And in my madness to myself I said, 

' I will embark and I will lose myself, 

And in the great sea wash away my sin,' 

I burst the chain, I sprang into the boat. 

Seven days I drove along the dreary deep. 

And with me drove the moon and all the stars j 

And the wind fell, and on the seventh night 

I heard the shingle grinding in the surge. 

And felt the boat shock earth, and looking up, 

Behold, the enchanted towers of Carbonek, Sio 

A castle like a rock upon a rock. 

With chasm-like portals open to the sea. 

And steps that met the breaker ! There was none 

Stood near it but a lion on each side 

That kept the entry, and the moon was full. 

Then from the boat I leapt, and up the stairs. 

There drew my sword. With sudden-flaring manes 

Those two great beasts rose upright like a man, 

Each gript a shoulder, and I stood between. 

And, when I would have smitten them, heard a voice, 820 

' Doubt not, go forward ; if thou doubt, the beasts 

Will tear thee piecemeal.' Then with violence 

The sword was dash'd from out my hand, and fell. 

And up into the sounding hall I past ; 

But nothing in the sounding hall I saw, 



72 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

No bench nor table, painting on the wall 

Or shield of knight, only the rounded moon 

Thro' the tall oriel on the rolling sea. 

But always in the quiet house I heard, 

Clear as a lark, high o'er me as a lark, 830 

A sweet voice singing in the topmost tower 

To the eastward. Up I climb'd a thousand steps 

With pain ; as in a dream I seem'd to climb 

For ever : at the last I reach'd a door, 

A light was in the crannies, and I heard, 

' Glory and joy and honor to our Lord 

And to the Holy Vessel of the Grail ! ' 

Then in my madness I essay'd the door ; 

It gave, and thro' a stormy glare, a heat 

As from a seven-times-heated furnace, I, 840 

Blasted and burnt, and blinded as I was. 

With such a fierceness that I swoon'd away — 

O, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail, 

All pall'd in crimson samite, and around 

Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes ! 

And but for all my madness and my sin. 

And then my swooning, I had sworn I saw 

That which I saw ; but what I saw was veil'd 

And cover'd, and this quest was not for me." 

' So speaking, and here ceasing, Lancelot left 850 

The hall long silent, till Sir Gawain — nay, 
Brother, I need not tell thee foolish words, — 
A reckless and irreverent knight was he. 
Now bolden'd by the silence of his King, — 
Well, I will tell thee : " O King, my liege," he said, 
" Hath Gawain fail'd in any quest of thine .? 
When have I stinted stroke in foughten field ? 
But as for thine, my good friend Percivale,- 



THE HOLY GRAIL. y^ 

Thy holy nun and thou have driven men mad, 

Yea, made our mightiest madder than our least. 860 

But by mine eyes and by mine ears I swear, 

I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, 

And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, 

To holy virgins in their ecstasies, 

Henceforward." 

' " Deafer," said the blameless King, 
" Gawain, and blinder unto holy things, 
Hope not to make thyself by idle vows, 
Being too blind to have desire to see. 
But if indeed there came a sign from heaven. 
Blessed are Bors, Lancelot, and Percivale, 870 

For these have seen according to their sight. 
For every fiery prophet in old times. 
And all the sacred madness of the bard. 
When God made music thro' them, could but speak 
His music by the framework and the chord ; 
And as ye saw it ye have spoken truth. 

' "Nay — but thou errest, Lancelot : never yet 
Could all of true and noble in knight and man 
Twine round one sin, whatever it might be, 
With such a closeness but apart there grew, sso 

Save that he were the swine thou spakest of, 
Some root of knighthood and pure nobleness ; 
Whereto see thou, that it may bear its flower. 

' " And spake I not too truty, O my knights .'' 
Was I too dark a prophet when I said 
To those who went upon the Holy Quest, 
That most of them would follow wandering fires, 
Lost in the quagmire ? — lost to me and gone, 



74 IDYLLS OF THE KLNG. 

And left me gazing at a barren board, 

And a lean Order — scarce return'd a tithe — 

And out of those to whom the vision came 

My greatest hardly will believe he saw. 

Another hath beheld it afar off, 

And, leaving human wrongs to right themselves, 

Cares but to pass into the silent life. 

And one hath had the vision face to face. 

And now his chair desires him here in vain, 

However they may crown him otherwhere. 

' " And some among you held that if the King 
Had seen the sight he would have sworn the vow : 
Not easily, seeing that the King must guard 
That which he rules, and is but as the hind 
To whom a space of land is given to plow, • 
Who may not wander from the allotted field 
Before his work be done, but, being done, 
Let visions of the night or of the day 
Come as they will ; and many a time they come, 
Until this earth he walks on seems not earth. 
This light that strikes his eyeball is not light, 
This air that smites his forehead is not air 
But vision — yea, his very hand and foot — 
In moments when he feels he cannot die. 
And knows himself no vision to himself. 
Nor the high God a vision, nor that One 
Who rose again : ye have seen what ye have seen." 

' So spake the King : I knew not all he meant' 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap 
Left by the Holy Quest ; and as he sat 
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors 
Were softly sunder'd, and thro' these a youth, 
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields 
Past, and the sunshine came along with him. 

' Make me thy knight, because I know, Sir King, 
All that belongs to knighthood, and I love.' 
Such was his cry: for having heard the King 
Had let proclaim a tournament — the prize 
A golden circlet and a knightly sword. 
Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won 
The golden circlet, for himself the sword : 
And there were those who knew him near the King, 
And promised for him ; and Arthur made him knight. 

And this new knight, Sir Pelleas of the Isles — 
But lately come to his inheritance, 
And lord of many a barren isle was he — 
Riding at noon, a day or twain before. 
Across the forest call'd of Dean, to find 
Caerleon and the King, had felt the sun 
Beat like a strong knight on his helm and reel'd 
Almost to falling from his horse, but saw 
Near him a mound of even-sloping side 
Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew, 



76 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And here and there great hollies under them ; 
But for a mile all round was open space 
And fern and heath. And slowly Pelleas drew 
To. that dim day, then, binding his good horse 
To a tree, cast himself down ; and as he lay 
At random looking over the brown earth 
Thro' that green-glooming twilight of the grove. 
It seem'd to Pelleas that the fern without 
Burnt as a living fire of emeralds. 
So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it 
Then o'er it crost the dimness of a cloud 
Floating, and once the shadow of a bird 
Flying, and then a fawn ; and his eyes closed. 
And since he loved all maidens, but no maid 
In special, half- awake he whisper'd : ' Where ? 
O where ? I love thee, tho' I know thee not. 
For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere, 
And I will make thee with my spear and sword 
As famous — O my Queen, my Guinevere, 
For I will be thine Arthur when we meet.' 

Suddenly waken'd with a sound of talk 
And laughter at the limit of the wood. 
And glancing thro' the hoary boles, he saw, 
Strange as to some old prophet might have seem'd 
A vision hovering on a sea of fire, 
Damsels in divers colors like the cloud 
Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them 
On horses, and the horses richly trapt 
Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood ; 
And all the damsels talk'd confusedly. 
And one was pointing this way and one that, 
Because the way was lost. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. // 

And Pelleas rose, 
And loosed his horse, and led him to the light. 
There she that seem'd the chief among them said : 
' In happy time behold our pilot-star ! 60 

Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride, 
Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the knights 
There at Caerleon, but have lost our way : 
To right ? to left ? straight forward ? back again ? 
Which ? tell us quickly.' 

Pelleas gazing thought, 
' Is Guinevere herself so beautiful ? ' 
For large her violet eyes look'd, and her bloom 
A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens. 
And round her limbs, mature in womanhood ; 
And slender was her hand and small her shape ; 70 

And but for those large eyes, the haunts of scorn. 
She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with, 
And pass and care no more. But while he gazed 
The beauty of her flesh abash'd the boy. 
As tho' it were the beauty of her soul ; 
For as the base man, judging of the good, 
Puts his own baseness in him by default 
Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend 
All the young beauty of his own soul to hers, 
Believing her, and when she spake to him So 

Stammer'd, and could not make her a reply. 
For out of the waste islands had he come, 
Where saving his own sisters he had known 
Scarce any but the women of his isles. 
Rough wives, that laugh'd and scream'd against the gulls, 
Makers of nets, and living from the sea. 

Then with a slow smile turn'd the lady round 
And look'd upon her people ; and, as when 



y8 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn 

The circle widens till it lip the marge, 

Spread the slow smile thro' all her company. 

Three knights were thereamong, and they too smiled, 

Scorning him ; for the lady was Ettarre, 

And she was a great lady in her land. 

Again she said : ' O wild and of the woods, 
Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech ? 
Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face, 
Lacking a tongue ? ' 

' O damsel,' answer'd he, 
' I woke from dreams, and coming out of gloom 
Was dazzled by the sudden light, and crave 
Pardon ; but will ye to Caerleon ? I 
Go likewise : shall I lead you to the King ? ' 

• Lead then,' she said ; and thro' the woods they went. 
And while they rode, the meaning in his eyes. 
His tenderness of manner, and chaste awe, 
His broken utterances and bashfulness. 
Were all a burthen to her, and in her heart 
She mutter'd, ' I have lighted on a fool, 
Raw, yet so stale ! ' But since her mind was bent 
On hearing, after trumpet blown, her name 
And title, ' Queen of Beauty,' in the lists 
Cried — and beholding him so strong she thought 
That peradventure he will fight for me, 
And win the circlet — therefore flatter'd him, 
Being so gracious that he wellnigh deem'd 
His wish by hers was echo'd ; and her knights 
And all her damsels too were gracious to him, 
For she was a great lady. 



PELLEAS AND ETTA R RE. 79 

And when they reach'd 
Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she, 
Taking his hand, ' O the strong hand,' she said, 120 

' See ! look at mine ! but wilt thou fight for me, 
And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas, 
That I may love thee ? ' 

Then his helpless heart 
Leapt, and he cried, ' Ay ! wilt thou if I win ? ' 
' Ay, that will I,' she answer'd, and she laugh'd. 
And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from her ; 
Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers, 
Till all her ladies laugh'd along with her. 

' O happy world,' thought Pelleas, ' all, meseems. 
Are happy ; I the happiest of them all ! ' 130 

Nor slept that night for pleasure in his Iplood, 
And green wood-ways, and eyes among the leaves ; 
Then being on the morrow knighted, sware 
To love one only. And as he came away. 
The men who met him rounded on their heels 
And wonder'd after him, because his face 
Shone like the countenance of a priest of old 
Against the flame about a sacrifice 
Kindled by fire from heaven : so glad was he. 

Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights 140 
From the four winds came in : a!nd each one sat, 
Tho' served with choice from air, land, stream, and sea. 
Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes 
His neighbor's make and might ; and Pelleas look'd 
Noble among the noble, for he dream'd 
His lady loved him, and he knew himself 
Loved of the King: : and him his new-made knight 



80 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Worshipt, whose lightest whisper moved him more 
Than all the ranged reasons of the world. 

Then blush'd and brake the morning of the jousts, 
And this was call'd ' The Tournament of Youth ; ' 
For Arthur, loving his young knight, withheld 
His older and his mightier from the lists, 
That Pelleas might obtain his lady's love. 
According to her promise, and remain 
Lord of the tourney. And Arthur had the jousts 
Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk 
Holden ; the gilded parapets were crown'd 
With faces, and the great tower fiU'd with eyes 
Up to the summit, and the trumpets blew. 
There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the field 
With honor ; so by that strong hand of his 
The sword and golden circlet were achieved. 

Then rang the shout his lady loved : the heat 
Of pride and glory fired her face, her eye 
Sparkled ; she caught the circlet from his lance, 
And there before the people crown'd herself : 
So for the last time she was gracious to him. 

Then at Caerleon for a space — her look 
Bright for all others, cloudier on her knight — 
Linger'd Ettarre ; and, seeing Pelleas droop. 
Said Guinevere, ' We marvel at thee much, 
O damsel, wearing this unsunny face 
To him who won thee glory ! ' And she said, 
' Had ye not held your Lancelot in your bower. 
My Queen, he had not won.' Whereat the Queen, 
As one whose foot is bitten by an ant. 
Glanced down upon her, turn'd and went her way. 



PELLEAS AND E TEAR RE. 8 1 

But after, when her damsels, and herself, 
And those three knights all set their faces home, iSo 

Sir Pelleas follow'd. She that saw him cried : 
' Damsels — and yet I should be shamed to say it — 
I cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him back 
Among yourselves. Would rather that we had 
Some rough old knight who knew the worldly way, 
Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride 
And jest with ! Take him to you, keep him off, 
And pamper him with papmeat, if ye will, 
Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep, 
Such as the wholesome mothers tell their boys. 190 

Nay, should ye try him with a merry one 
To find his mettle, good ; and if he fly us. 
Small matter ! let him.' This her damsels heard, 
And, mindful of her small and cruel hand, 
They, closing round him thro' the journey home, 
Acted her best, and always from her side 
Restrain'd him with all manner of device, 
So that he could not come to speech with her. 
And when she gain'd her castle, upsprang the bridge, 
Down rang the grate of iron thro' the groove, 200 

And he was left alone in open field. 

' These be the ways of ladies,' Pelleas thought, 
' To those who love them, trials of our faith. 
Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost. 
For loyal to the uttermost am I.' 
So made his moan, and, darkness falling, sought 
A priory not far off, there lodged, but rose 
With morning every day, and, moist or dry, 
Full-arm'd upon his charger all day long 
Sat by the walls, and no one open'd to him. 210 

VOL. II. 



82 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And this persistence turn'd her scorn to wrath. 
Then, calling her three knights, she charged them, ' Out ! 
And drive him from the walls.' And out they came, 
But Pelleas overthrew them as they dash'd 
Against him one by one ; and these return'd. 
But still he kept his watch beneath the wall. 

Thereon her wrath became a hate ; and once, 
A week beyond, while walking on the walls 
With her three knights, she pointed downward, ' Look, 
He haunts me — I cannot breathe — besieges me ! : 

Down ! strike him ! put my hate into your strokes, 
And drive him from my walls.' And down they went, 
And Pelleas overthrew them one by one ; 
And from the tower above him cried Ettarre, 
' Bind him, and bring him in.' 

He heard her voice ; 
Then let the strong hand, which had overthrown 
Her minion-knights, by those he overthrew 
Be bounden straight, and so they brought him in. 

Then when he came before Ettarre, the sight 
Of her rich beauty made him at one glance : 

More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds. 
Yet with good cheer he spake : ' Behold me, lady, 
A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will ; 
And if thou keep me in thy donjon here, 
Content am I so that I see thy face 
But once a day : for I have sworn my vows. 
And thou hast given thy promise, and I know 
That-all these pains are trials of my faith, 
And that thyself, when thou hast seen me strain'd 
And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length : 

Yield me thy love and know me for thy knight.' 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 83 

Then she began to rail so bitterly, 
With all her damsels, he was stricken mute, 
But, when she mock'd his vows and the great King, 
Lighted on words : ' For pity of thine own self, 
Peace, lady, peace : is he not thine and mine ? ' 
' Thou fool,' she said, ' I never heard his voice 
But long'd to break away. Unbind him now, 
And thrust him out of doors ; for save he be 
Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones, 250 

He will return no more.' And those, her three, 
Laugh'd, and unbound, and thrust him from the gate. 

And after this, a week beyond, again 
She call'd them, saying : ' There he watches yet. 
There like a dog before his master's door ! 
Kick'd, he returns : do ye not hate him, ye ? 
Ye know yourselves : how can ye bide at peace, 
Affronted with his fulsome innocence ? 
Are ye but creatures of the board and bed, 
No men to strike ? Fall on him all at once, 260 

And if ye slay him I reck not ; if ye fail. 
Give ye the slave mine order to be bound, 
Bind him as heretofore, and bring him in : 
It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds.' 

She spake, and at her will they couch'd their spears, 
Three against one : and Gawain passing by, 
Bound upon solitary adventure, saw 
Low down beneath the shadow of those towers 
A villainy, three to one ; and thro' his heart 
The fire of honor and all noble deeds 270 

Flash'd, and he call'd, ' I strike upon thy side — 
The caitiffs ! ' ' Nay,' said Pelleas, ' but forbear ; 
He needs no aid who doth his lady's will.' 



84 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

So Gawain, looking at the villainy done, 
Forbore, but in his heat and eagerness 
Trembled and quiver'd, as the dog, withheld 
A moment from the vermin that he sees 
Before him, shivers ere he springs and kills. 

And Pelleas overthrew them, one to three ; 
And they rose up, and bound, and brought him in. 
Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas, burn'd 
Full on her knights in many an evil name 
Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound : 
' Yet, take him, ye that scarce are fit to touch, 
Far less to bind, your victor, and thrust him out, 
And let who will release him from his bonds. 
And if he comes again ' — there she brake short ; 
And Pelleas answer'd : ' Lady, for indeed 
I loved you and I deem'd you beautiful, 
I cannot brook to see your beauty marr'd 
Thro' evil spite ; and if ye love me not, 
I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn. 
I had liefer ye were worthy of my love 
Than to be loved again of you — farewell ; 
And tho' ye kill my hope, not yet my love. 
Vex not yourself : ye will not see me more.' 

While thus he spake, she gazed upon the man 
Of princely bearing, tho' in bonds, and thought : 
* Why have I push'd him from me ? this man loves, 
If love there be ; yet him I loved not. Why ? 
I deem'd him fool ? yea, so ? or that in him 
A something — was it nobler than myself ? — 
Seem'd my reproach ? He is not of my kind. 
He could not love me, did he know me well. 
Nay, let him go — and quickly.' And her knights 
Laugh'd not, but thrust him bounden out of door. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 85 

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed him from his bonds, 
And flung them o'er the walls ; and afterward, 
Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's rag, 
'Faith of my body,' he said, 'and art thou not — 310 

Yea thou art he, whom late our Arthur made 
Knight of his table ; yea, and he that won 
The circlet ? wherefore hast thou so defamed 
Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest 
As let these caitiffs on thee work their will ? ' 

And Pelleas answer'd : ' O, their wills are hers 
For whom I won the circlet; and mine, hers. 
Thus to be bounden, so to see her face, 
Marr'd tho' it be with spite and mockery now. 
Other than when I found her in the woods ; 320 

And tho' she hath me bounden but in spite, 
And all to flout me, when they bring me in. 
Let me be bounden, I shall see her face ; 
Else must I die thro' mine unhappiness.' 

And Gawain answer'd kindly tho' in scorn : 
' Why, let my lady bind me if she will, 
And let my lady beat me if she will ; 
But an she send her delegate to thrall 
These fighting hands of mine — Christ kill me then 
But I will slice him handless by the wrist, 330 

And let my lady sear the stump for him, 
Howl as he may ! But hold me for your friend : 
Come, ye know nothing ; here I pledge my troth. 
Yea, by the honor of the Table Round, 
I will be leal to thee and work thy work. 
And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand. 
Lend me thine horse and arms, and I will say 
That I have slain thee. She will let me in 



86 IDYLLS OF THE KING. ■ 

To hear the manner of thy fight and fall ; 

Then, when I come within her counsels, then 340 

From prime to vespers will I chant thy praise 

As prowest knight and truest lover, more 

Than any have sung thee living, till she long 

To have thee back in lusty life again. 

Not to be bound, save by white bonds and warm, 

Dearer than freedom. Wherefore now thy horse 

And armor ; let me go ; be comforted : 

Give me three days to melt her fancy, and hope 

The third night hence will bring thee news of gold.' 

Then Pelleas lent his horse and all his arms, 350 

Saving the goodly sword, his prize, and took 
Gawain's, and said, ' Betray me not, but help — 
Art thou not he whom men call light-of-love ? ' 

'Ay,' said Gawain, 'for women be so light ; ' 
Then bounded forward to the castle walls. 
And raised a bugle hanging from his neck. 
And winded it, and that so musically 
That all the old echoes hidden in the wall 
Rang out like hollow woods at hunting-tide. 

Up ran a score of damsels to the tower ; 360 

* Avaunt,' they cried, ' our lady loves thee not ! ' 
But Gawain lifting up his vizor said : 
' Gawain am I, Gawain of Arthur's court, 
And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate : 
Behold his horse and armor. Open gates. 
And I will make you merry.' 

And down they ran, 
Her damsels, crying to their lady, ' Lo ! 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 8/ 

Pelleas is dead — he told us — he that hath 

His horse and armor : will ye let him in ? 

He slew him ! Gawain, Gawain of the court, 370 

Sir Gawain — there he waits below the wall, 

Blowing his bugle as who should say him nay.' 

And so, leave given, straight on thro' open door 
Rode Gawain, whom she greeted courteously. 
' Dead, is it so ? ' she ask'd. ' Ay, ay,' said he, 
' And oft in dying cried ujDon your name.' 
' Pity on him,' she answer'd, ' a good knight, 
But never let me bide one hour at peace.' 
' Ay,' thought Gawain, ' and you be fair enow ; 
But I to your dead man have given my troth, 380 

That whom ye loathe, him will I make you love.' 

So those three days, aimless about the land, 
Lost in a doubt, Pelleas wandering 
Waited, until the third night brought a moon 
With promise of large light on woods and ways. 

Hot was the night and silent ; but a sound 
Of Gawain ever coming, and this lay — 
Which Pelleas had heard sung before the Queen, 
And seen her sadden listening — vext his heart, 
And marr'd his rest — ' A worm within the rose.' 390 

' A rose, but one, none other rose had I, 
A rose, one rose, and this was wondrous fair. 
One rose, a rose that gladden'd earth and sky. 
One rose, my rose, that sweeten'd all mine air — 
I cared not for the thorns ; the thorns were there. 

' One rose, a rose to gather by and by, 
One rose, a rose, to gather and to wear, 



88 IDYLLS OF THE KIATG. 

No rose but one — what other rose had I ? 
One rose, my rose ; a rose that will not die, — 
He dies who loves it, — if the worm be there.' 

This tender rhyme, and evermore the doubt, 
' Why lingers Gawain with his golden news ? ' 
So shook him that he could not rest, but rode 
Ere midnight to her walls, and bound his horse 
Hard by the gates. Wide open were the gates. 
And no watch kept ; and in thro' these he past, 
And heard but his own steps^ and his own heart 
Beating, for nothing moved but his own self 
And his own shadow. Then he crost the court, 
And spied not any light in hall or bower. 
But saw the postern portal also wide 
Yawning ; and up a slope of garden, all 
Of roses white and red, and brambles mixt 
And overgrowing them, went on, and found. 
Here too, all hush'd below the mellow moon. 
Save that one rivulet from a tiny cave 
Came lightening downward, and so spilt itself 
Among the roses and was lost again. 

Then was he ware of three pavilions rear'd 
Above the bushes, gilden-peakt : in one. 
Red after revel, droned her lurdane knights 
Slumbering, and their three squires across their feet : 
In one, their malice on the placid lip 
Frozen by sweet sleep, four of her damsels lay ; 
And in the third, the circlet of the jousts 
Bound on her brow, were Gawain and Ettarre. 

Back, as a hand that pushes thro' the leaf 
To find a nest and feels a snake, he drew ; 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 89 

Back, as a coward slinks from what he fears 

To cope with, or a traitor proven, or hound 430 

Beaten, did Pelleas in an utter shame 

Creep with his shadow thro' the court again, 

Fingering at his sword-handle until he stood 

There on the castle-bridge once more, and thought, 

^ I will go back, and slay them where they lie.' 

And so went back, and seeing them yet in sleep 
Said, ' Ye, that so dishallow the holy sleep, 
Your sleep is death,' and drew the sword, and thought, 
' What ! slay a sleeping knight ? the King hath bound 
And sworn me to this brotherhood ; ' again, 440 

' Alas that ever a knight should be so false.' 
Then turn'd, and so return'd, and groaning laid 
The naked sword athwart their naked throats, 
There left it, and them sleeping ; and she lay. 
The circlet of the tourney round her brows. 
And the sword of the tourney across her throat. 

And forth he past, and mounting on his horse 
Stared at her towers that, larger than themselves 
In their own darkness, throng'd into the moon. 
Then crush'd the saddle with his thighs, and clench'd 450 
His hands, and madden'd with himself and moan'd : 

' Would they have risen against me in their blood 
At the last day ? I might have answer'd them 
Even before high God. O towers so strong. 
Huge, solid, would that even while I gaze 
The crack of earthquake shivering to your base 
Split you, and hell burst up your harlot roofs 
Bellowing, and charr'd you thro' and thro' within, 
Black as the harlot's heart — hollow as a skull ! 



90 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Let the fierce east scream thro' your eyelet-holes, 
And whirl the dust of harlots round and round 
In dung and nettles ! hiss, snake — I saw him there- 
Let the fox bark, let the wolf yell ! Who yells 
Here in the still sweet summer night but I — 
I, the poor Pelleas whom she call'd her fool ? . 
Fool, beast — he, she, or I ? myself most fool ; 
Beast too, as lacking human wit — disgraced, 
Dishonor'd all for trial of true love — 
Love ? — we be all alike : only the King 
Hath made us fools and liars. O noble vows ! 

great and sane and simple race of brutes 
That own no lust because they have no law ! 
For why should I have loved her to my shame ? 

1 loathe her, as I loved her to my shame. 
I never loved her, I but lusted for her — 
Away ! ' — 

He dash'd the rowel into his horse. 
And bounded forth and vanish'd thro' the night. 

Then she, that felt the cold touch on her throat, 
Awaking knew the sword, and turn'd herself 
To Gawain : ' Liar, for thou hast not slain 
This Pelleas ! here he stood, and might have slain 
Me and thyself.' And he that tells the tale 
Says that her ever-veering fancy turn'd 
To Pelleas, as the one true knight on earth 
And only lover ; and thro' her love her life 
Wasted and pined, desiring him in vain. 

But he by wild and way, for half the night. 
And over hard and soft, striking the sod 
From out the soft, the spark from off the hard, 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 9 1 

Rode till the star above the wakening sun, 490 

Beside that tower where Percivale was cowl'd, 

Glanced from the rosy forehead of the dawn. 

For so the words were flash'd into his heart 

He knew not whence or wherefore : ' O sweet star, 

Pure on the virgin forehead of the dawn ! ' 

And there he would have wept, but felt his eyes 

Harder and drier than a fountain bed 

In summer : thither came the village girls 

And linger'd talking, and they come no more 

Till the sweet heavens have fill'd it from the heights .,00 

Again with living waters in the change 

Of seasons : hard his eyes, harder his heart 

Seem'd ; but so weary were his limbs that he, 

Gasping, ' Of Arthur's hall am I, but here. 

Here let me rest and die,' cast himself down, 

And gulf'd his griefs in inmost sleep ; so lay, 

Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain fired 

The hall of Merlin, and the morning star 

Reel'd in the smoke, brake into flame, and fell. 

He woke, and being ware of some one nigh, . 510 

Sent hands upon him, as to tear him, crying, 
' False ! and I held thee pure as Guinevere.' 

But Percivale stood near him and replied, 
* Am I but false as Guinevere is pure ? 
Or art thou mazed with dreams ? or being one 
Of our free-spoken Table hast not heard 
That Lancelot' — there he check'd himself and paused. 

Then fared it with Sir Pelleas as with one 
Who gets a wound in battle, and the sword 
That made it plunges thro' the wound again, 520 



92 IDYLLS OF THE I<:iNG. 

And pricks it deeper ; and he shrank and wail'd, 
' Is the Queen false ? ' and Percivale was mute. 
' Have any of our Round Table held their vows ? ' 
And Percivale made answer not a word. 
' Is the King true ? ' ' The King ! ' said Percivale. 
' Why, then let men couple at once with wolves. 
What ! art thou mad ? ' 

But Pelleas, leaping up, 
Ran thro' the doors and vaulted on his horse 
And fled : small pity upon his horse had he, 
Or on himself, or any, and when he met 530 

A cripple, one that held a hand for alms — 
Hunch'd as he was, and like an old dwarf-elm 
That turns its back on the salt blast, the boy 
Paused not, but overrode him, shouting, ' False, 
And false with Gawain ! ' and so left him bruised 
And batter'd, and fled on, and hill and wood 
Went ever streaming by him till the gloom 
That follows on the turning of the world 
Darken'd the common path : he twitch'd the reins, 
And made his beast, that better knew it, swerve 540 

Now off it and now on ; but when he saw 
High up in heaven the hall that Merlin built. 
Blackening against the dead-green stripes of even, 
' Black nest of rats,' he groan'd, ' ye build too high.' 

Not long thereafter from the city gates 
Issued Sir Lancelot riding airily, 
Warm with a gracious parting from the Queen, 
Peace at his heart, and gazing at a star 
And marvelling what it was ; on whom the boy, 
Across the silent seeded meadow-grass 550 

Borne, clash'd : and Lancelot, saying, ' What name hast thou 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 93 

That ridest here so blindly and so hard ? ' 

'No name, no name,' he shouted, 'a scourge am I 

To lash the treasons of the Table Round.' 

' Yea, but thy name ? ' 'I have many names,' he cried : 

' I am wrath and shame and hate and evil fame, 

And like a poisonous wind I pass to blast 

And blaze the crime of Lancelot and the Queen.' 

' First over me,' said Lancelot, ' shalt thou pass.' 

' Fight therefore,' yell'd the youth, and either knight 560 

Drew back a space, and when they closed, at once 

The weary steed of Pelleas floundering flung 

His rider, who call'd out from the dark field, 

' Thou art false as hell : slay me ; I have no sword.' 

Then Lancelot, ' Yea, between thy lips — and sharp j 

But here will I disedge it by thy death.' 

' Slay then,' he shriek'd, 'my will is to be slain,' 

And Lancelot, with his heel upon the fallen, 

Rolling his eyes, a moment stood, then spake : 

' Rise, weakling ; I am Lancelot ; say thy say.' S7o 

And Lancelot slowly rode his war-horse back 
To Camelot, and Sir Pelleas in brief while 
Caught his unbroken limbs from the dark field. 
And follow'd to the city. It chanced that both 
Brake into hall together, worn and pale. 
There with her knights and dames was Guinevere. 
Full wonderingly she gazed on Lancelot 
So soon return'd, and then on Pelleas, him 
Who had not greeted her, but cast himself 
Down on a bench, hard-breathing. ' Have ye fought "i ' 5S0 
She ask'd of Lancelot. ' Ay, my Queen,' he said. 
' And thou hast overthrown him ? ' ' Ay, my Queen.' 
Then she, turning to Pelleas, ' O young knight, 
Hath the great heart of knighthood in thee fail'd 



94 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

So far thou canst not bide, unfrowardly, 

A fall from him ? ' Then, for he answer'd not, 

' Or hast thou other griefs ? If I, the Queen, 

May help them, loose thy tongue, and let me know.' 

But Pelleas lifted up an eye so fierce 

She quail'd ; and he, hissing ' I have no sword,' 

Sprang from the door into the dark. The Queen 

Look'd hard upon her lover, he on her. 

And each foresaw the dolorous day to be ; 

And all talk died, as in a grove all song 

Beneath the shadow of some bird of prey : 

Then a long silence came upon the hall, 

And Modred thought, ' The time is hard at hand.' 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood 

Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round, 

At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods, 

Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall. 

And toAvard him from the hall, with harp in hand, 

And from the crown thereof a carcanet 

Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize 

Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday. 

Came Tristram, saying, ' Why skip ye so. Sir Fool ? 

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once 
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock 
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead. 
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes, 
Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air 
Bearing an eagle's nest ; and thro' the tree 
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind 
Pierced ever a child's cry : and crag and tree 
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous, nest, 
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck, 
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought 
A maiden babe, which Arthur pitying took, 
Then gave it to his Queen to rear. The Queen, 
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms 
Received, and after loved it tenderly, 

so forgot herself 



96 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

A moment, and her cares ; till that young life 

Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold 

Past from her, and in time the carcanet 

Vext her'with plaintive memories of the child : 

So she, delivering it to Arthur, said, 

' Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence, 

And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.' 

To whom the King, ' Peace to thine eagle-borne 
Dead nestling, and this honor after death. 
Following thy will ! but, O my Queen, I muse 
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone 
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn, 
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.' 

' Would rather you had let them fall,' she cried, 
' Plunge and be lost — ill-fated as they were, 
A bitterness to me ! — ye look amazed, 
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given — 
Slid from my hands when I was leaning out 
Above the river — that unhappy child 
Past in her barge ; but rosier luck will go 
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came 
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer, 
But the sweet body of a maiden babe. 
Perchance — who knows ? — the purest of thy knights 
May win them for the purest of my maids.' 

She ended, and the cry of a great jousts 
With trumpet-blowings ran on all the ways 
From Camelot in among the faded fields 
To furthest towers ; and everywhere the knights 
Arm'd for a day of glory before the King. 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 97 

But on the hither side of that loud morn 
Into the hall stagger'd, his visage ribb'd 
From ear to. ear with dogwhip-weals, his nose 
Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one hand off, 
And one with shatter'd fingers dangling lame, 60 

A churl, to whom indignantly the King : 

' My churl, for whom Christ died, what evil beast 
Hath drawn his claws athwart thy face ? or fiend ? 
Man was it who marr'd heaven's image in thee thus ? ' 

Then, sputtering thro' the hedge of splinter'd teeth, 
Yet strangers to the tongue, and with blunt stump 
Pitch-blacken'd sawing the air, said the maim'd churl : 

'He took them and he drave them to his tower — 
Some hold he was a table-knight of thine — 
A hundred goodly ones — the Red Knight, he — 70 

Lord, I was tending swine, and the Red Knight 
Brake in upon me and drave them to his tower ; 
And when I call'd upon thy name as one 
That doest right by gentle and by churl, 
Maim'd me and maul'd, and would outright have slain, 
Save that he sware me to a message, saying : 
" Tell thou the King and all his liars that I 
Have founded my Round Table in the North, 
And whatsoever his own knights have sworn 
My knights have sworn the counter to it — and say 80 

My tower is full of harlots, like his court, 
But mine are worthier, seeing they profess 
To be none other than themselves — and say 
My knights are all adulterers like his own, 
But mine are truer, seeing they profess 
To be none other ; and say his hour is come, 

VOL. II. 



98 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

The heathen are upon him, his long lance 
Broken, and his Excalibur a straw." ' 

Then Arthur turn'd to Kay the seneschal : 
' Take thou my churl, and tend him curiously 
Like a king's heir, till all his hurts be whole. 
The heathen — but that ever-climbing wave, 
Hurl'd back again so often in empty foam, 
Hath lain for years at rest — and renegades. 
Thieves, bandits, leavings of confusion, whom 
The wholesome realm is purged of otherwhere. 
Friends, thro' your manhood and your fealty, — now 
Make their last head like Satan in the North. 
My younger knights, new-made, in whom your flower 
Waits to be solid fruit of golden deeds. 
Move with me toward their quelling, which achieved, 
The loneliest ways are safe from shore to shore. 
But thou. Sir Lancelot, sitting in my place 
Enchair'd to-morrow, arbitrate the field ; 
For wherefore shouldst thou care to mingle with it. 
Only to yield my Queen her own again ? 
Speak, Lancelot, thou art silent : is it well ? ' 

Thereto Sir Lancelot answer'd : ' It is well ; 
Yet better if the King abide, and leave 
The leading of his younger knights to me. 
Else, for the King has will'd it, it is well.' 

Then Arthur rose and Lancelot follow'd him. 
And while they stood without the doors, the King 
Turn'd to him saying : ' Is it then so well 1 
Or mine the blame that oft I seem as he 
Of whom was written, " A sound is in his ears " .-• 
The foot that loiters, bidden go, — the glance 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 99 

That only seems half-loyal to command, — 

A manner somewhat fallen from reverence — 

Or have I dream'd the bearing of our knights " 120 

Tells of a manhood ever less and lower ? 

Or whence the fear lest this my realm, uprear'd, 

By noble deeds at one with noble vows, 

From, flat confusion and brute violences, 

Reel back into the beast, and be no more ? ' 

He spoke, and taking all his younger knights, 
Down the slope city rode, and sharply turn'd 
North by the gate. In her high bower the Queen, 
Working a tapestry, lifted up her head, 
Watch'd her lord pass, and knew not that she sigh'd. 130 
Then ran across her memory the strange rhyme 
Of bygone Merlin, ' Where is he who knows ? 
From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' 

But when the morning of a tournament, 
By these in earnest those in mockery call'd 
The Tournament of the Dead Innocence, 
Brake with a wet wind blowing, Lancelot, 
Round whose sick head all night, like birds of prey, 
The words of Arthur flying shriek'd, arose, 
And down a streetway hung with folds of pure 140 

White samite, and by fountains running wine, 
Where children sat in white with cups of gold. 
Moved to the lists, and there, with slow sad steps 
Ascending, fill'd his double-dragon'd chair. 

He glanced and saw the stately galleries, 
Dame, damsel, each thro' worship of their Queen 
White-robed in honor of the stainless child, 
And some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank 



lOO IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. 
He look'd but once, and vail'd his eyes again. 

The sudden trumpet sounded as in a dream 
To ears but half-awaked, then one low roll 
Of autumn thunder, and the jousts began ; 
And ever the wind blew, and yellowing leaf, 
And gloom and gleam, and shower and shorn plume 
Went down it. Sighing weariedly, as one 
Who sits and gazes on a faded fire, 
When all the goodlier guests are past away, 
Sat their great umpire looking o'er the lists. 
He saw the laws that ruled the tournament 
Broken, but spake not ; once, a knight cast down 
Before his throne of arbitration cursed 
The dead babe and the follies of the King; 
And once the laces of a helmet crack'd, 
And show'd him, like a vermin in its hole, 
Modred, a narrow face : anon he heard 
The voice that billow'd round the barriers roar 
An ocean-sounding welcome to one knight. 
But newly-enter'd, taller than the rest, 
And armor'd all in forest green, whereon 
There tript a hundred tiny silver deer. 
And wearing but a holly-spray for crest. 
With ever-scattering berries, and on shield 
A spear, a harp, a bugle — Tristram — late 
From over-seas in Brittany return'd. 
And marriage with a princess of that realm, 
Isolt the White — Sir Tristram of the Woods — 
Whom Lancelot knew, had held sometime with pain 
His own against him, and now yearn'd to shake 
The burthen off his heart in one full shock 
With Tristram even to death. His strong hands gript 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. lOI 

And dinted the gilt dragons right and left, 
Until he groan'd for wrath — so many of those 
That ware their ladies' colors on the casque 
Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds, 
And there with gibes and flickering mockeries 
Stood, while he mutter'd, ' Craven crests ! O shame ! 
What faith have these in whom they sware to love ? 
The glory of our Round Table is no more.' 

So Tristram won, and Lancelot gave, the gems, 190 

Not speaking other word than, ' Hast thou won ? 
Art thou the purest, brother ? See, the hand 
Wherewith thou takest this is red ! ' to whom 
Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot's languorous mood. 
Made answer : ' Ay, but wherefore toss me this 
Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound ? 
Let be thy fair Queen's fantasy. Strength of heart 
And might of limb, but mainly use and skill. 
Are winners in this pastime of our King. 
My hand — belike the lance hath dript upon it — 200 

No blood of mine, I trow ; but O chief knight, 
Right arm of Arthur in the battle-field, 
Great brother, thou nor I have made the world ; 
Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in mine.' 

And Tristram round the gallery made his horse 
Caracole ; then bow'd his homage, bluntly saying, 
' Fair damsels, each to him who worships each 
Sole Queen of Beauty and of love, behold 
This day my Queen of Beauty is not here.' 
And most of these were mute, some anger'd, one 210 

Murmuring, ' All courtesy is dead,' and one, 
' The glory of our Round Table is no more.' 



I02 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Then fell thick rain, plume droopt and mantle clung, 
And pettish cries awoke, and the wan day- 
Went glooming down in wet and weariness ; 
But under her black brows a swarthy one 
Laugh'd shrilly, crying : ' Praise the patient saints, 
Our one white day of Innocence hath past, 
Tho' somewhat draggled at the skirt. So be it. 
The snowdrop only, flowering thro' the year. 
Would make the v/orld as blank as winter-tide. 
Come — let us gladden their sad eyes, our Queen's 
And Lancelot's, at this night's solemnity 
With all the kindlier colors of the field.' 

So dame and damsel glitter'd at the feast 
Variously gay ; for he that tells the tale 
Liken'd them, saying, as when an hour of cold 
Falls on the mountain in midsummer snows. 
And all the purple slopes of mountain flowers 
Pass under white, till the warm hour returns 
With veer of wind and all are flowers again, 
So dame and damsel cast the simple white, 
And glowing in all colors, the live grass, 
Rose-campion, bluebell, kingcup, poppy, glanced 
About the revels, and with mirth so loud 
Beyond all use, that, half-amazed, the Queen, 
And wroth at Tristram and the lawless jousts. 
Brake up their sports, then slowly to her bower 
Parted, and in her bosom pain was lord. 

And little Dagonet on the morrow morn, 
Pligh over all the yellowing autumn-tide. 
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall. 
Then Tristram saying, ^ Why skip ye so. Sir Fool ? ' 
Wheel'd round on either heel, Dagonet replied, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. IO3 

* Belike for lack of wiser company ; 

Or being fool, and seeing too much wit 

Makes the world rotten, why, belike I skip 

To know myself the wisest knight of all.' 

' Ay, fool,' said Tristram, 'but 'tis eating dry 

To dance without a catch, a roundelay 250 

To dance to.' Then he twangled on his harp, 

And while he twangled little Dagonet stood 

Quiet as any water-sodden log 

Stay'd in the wandering warble of a brook. 

But when the twangling ended, skipt again ; 

And being ask'd, ' Why skipt ye not, Sir Fool ? ' 

Made answer, ' I had liefer twenty years 

Skip to the broken music of my brains 

Than any broken music thou canst make.' 

Then Tristram, waiting for the quip* to come, 260 

'Good now, what music have I broken, fool.?' 

And little Dagonet, skipping, ' Arthur, the King's ; 

For when thou playest that air with Queen Isolt, 

Thou makest broken music with thy bride. 

Her daintier namesake down in Brittany — 

And so thou breakest Arthur's music too.' 

' Save for that broken music in thy brains. 

Sir Fool,' said Tristram, ' I would break thy head. 

Fool, I came late, the heathen wars were o'er, 

The life had flown, we sware but by the shell — 270 

I am but a fool to reason with a fool — 

Come, thou art crabb'd and sour ; but lean me down. 

Sir Dagonet, one of thy long asses' ears, 

And barken if my music be not true. 

' " Free love — free field — we love but while we may : 
The woods are hush'd, their music is no more ; 
The leaf is dead, the yearning past away. 



I04 IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

New leaf, new life — the cla3's of frost are o'er ; 
New life, new love, to suit the newer day ; 
New loves are sweet as those that went before : 
Free love — free field — we love but while we may." 

' Ye might have moved slow-measure to my tune, 
Not stood stock-still. I made it in the woods. 
And heard it ring as true as tested gold.' 

But Dagonet with one foot poised in his hand : 
' Friend, did ye mark that fountain yesterday, 
Made to run wine ? — but this had run itself 
All out like a long life to a sour end — 
And them that round it sat with golden cups 
To hand the wine to whosoever came — 
The twelve small damosels white as Innocence, 
In honor of poor Innocence the babe, 
Who left the gems which Innocence the Queen 
Lent to the King, and Innocence the King 
Gave for a prize — and one of those white slips 
Handed her cup and piped, the pretty one, 
" Drink, drink, Sir Fool," and thereupon I drank. 
Spat — pish — the cup was gold, the draught was mud.' 

And Tristram : ' Was it muddier than thy gibes ? 
Is all the laughter gone dead out of thee ? — 
Not marking how the knighthood mock thee, fool — 
" Fear God : honor the King — his one true knight — 
Sole follower of the vows " — for here be they 
Who knew thee swine enow before I came. 
Smuttier than blasted grain : but when the King 
Had made thee fool, thy vanity so shot up 
It frighted all free fool from out thy heart ; 
Which left'thee less than fool, and less than swine, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 105 



A naked aught — yet swine I hold thee still, 
For I have flung thee pearls and find thee swine.' 

And little Dagonet mincing with his feet : 
' Knight, an ye fling those rubies round my neck 
In lieu of hers, I '11 hold thou hast some touch 
Of music, since I care not for thy pearls. 
Swine ? I have wallow'd, I have wash'd — the world 
Is fl.esh and shadow — I have had my day. 
The dirty nurse. Experience, in her kind 
Hath foul'd me — an I wallow'd, then I wash'd — 
I have had my day and my philosophies — 
And thank the Lord I am King Arthur's fool. 
Swine, say ye ? swine, goats, asses, rams, and geese 
Troop'd round a Paynim harper once, who thrumm'd 
On such a wire as musically as thou 
Some such fine song — but never a king's fool.' 

And Tristram, ' Then were swine, goats, asses, geese 
The wiser fools, seeing thy Paynim bard 
Had such a mastery of his mystery 
That he could harp his wife up out of hell.' 

Then Dagonet, turning on the ball of his foot, 
' And whither harp'st thou thine ? down ! and thyself 
Down ! and two more : a helpful harper thou. 
That harpest downward ! Dost thou know the star 
We call the Harp of Arthur up in heaven ? ' 

And Tristram, ' Ay, Sir Fool, for when our King 
Was victor wellnigh day by day, the knights, 
Glorying in each new glory, set his name 
High on all hills and in the signs of heaven.' 



310 



I06 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And Dagonet answer'd : ' Ay, and when the land 
Was freed, and the Queen false, ye set yourself 
To babble about him, all to show your wit — 
And whether he were king by courtesy, 
Or king by right — and so went harping down 
The black king's highway, got so far and grew 
So witty that ye play'd at ducks and drakes 
With Arthur's vows on the great lake of fire. 
Tuwhoo ! do ye see it ? do ye see the star ? ' 

' Nay, fool,' said Tristram, ' not in open day.' 
And Dagonet : ' Nay, nor will : I see it and hear. 
It makes a silent music up in heaven. 
And I and Arthur and the angels hear, 
And then we skip.' ' Lo, fool,' he said, 'ye talk 
Fool's treason : is the King thy brother fool ? ' 
Then little Dagonet clapt his hands and shrill'd : 
' Ay, ay, my brother fool, the king of fools ! 
Coiiceits himself as God that he can make 
Figs out of thistles, silk from bristles, milk 
From burning spurge, honey from hornet-combs, 
And men from beasts — Long live the king of fools ! ■ 

And down the city Dagonet danced away ; 
But thro' the slowly-mellowing avenues 
And solitary passes of the wood 
Rode Tristram toward Lyohnesse and the west. 
Before him fled the face of Queen Isolt 
With ruby-circled neck, but evermore 
Past, as a rustle or twitter in the wood 
Made dull his inner, keen his outer eye 
For all that walk'd, or crept, or perch'd, or flew. 
Anon the face, as, when a gust hath blown, 
Unruffling waters re-collect the shape 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. \0J 

Of one that in them sees himself, return'd ; 370 

But at the slot or fewmets of a deer, 
Or even a fallen feather, vanish'd again. 

So on for all that day from lawn to lawn ' 

Thro' many a league-long bower he rode. At length 
A lodge of intertwisted beechen-boughs, 
Furze-cramm'd and bracken-rooft, the which himself 
Built for a summer day with Queen Isolt 
Against a shower, dark in the golden grove 
Appearing, sent his fancy back to where 
She lived a moon in that low lodge with him ; 380 

Till Mark her lord had past, the Cornish King, 
With six or seven, when Tristram was away, 
And snatch'd her thence, yet, dreading worse than shame 
Her warrior Tristram, spake not any word. 
But bode his hour, devising wretchedness. 

And now that desert lodge to Tristram lookt 
So sweet that, halting, in he past and sank 
Down on a drift of foliage random-blown ; 
But could not rest for musing how to smooth 
And sleek his marriage over to the queen. 390 

Perchance in lone Tintagil far from all 
The tonguesters of the court she had not heard. 
But then what folly had sent him over-seas 
After she left him lonely here ? a name ? 
Was it the name of one in Brittany, 
Isolt, the daughter of the king ? ' Isolt 
Of the White Hands ' they call'd her : the sweet name 
Allured him first, and then the maid herself, 
Who served him well with those white hands of hers. 
And loved him well, until himself had thought 400 

He loved her also, wedded easily, 



I08 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

But left her all as easily, and return'd. 

The black-blue Irish hair and Irish eyes 

Had drawn him home — what marvel ? then he laid 

His brows upon the drifted leaf and dream'd. 

He seem'd to pace the strand of Brittany 
Between Isolt of Britain and his bride, 
And show'd them both the ruby-chain, and both 
Began to struggle for it, till his queen 
Graspt it so hard that all her hand was red. 
Then cried the Breton, ' Look, her hand is red ! 
These be no rubies, this is frozen blood, 
And melts within her hand — her hand is hot 
With ill desires, but this I gave thee, look. 
Is all as cool and white as any flower.' 
Follow'd a rush of eagle's wings, and then 
A whimpering of the spirit of the child. 
Because the twain had spoil'd her carcanet. 

He dream'd ; but Arthur with a hundred spears 
Rode far, till o'er the illimitable reed. 
And many a glancing plash and sallowy isle. 
The wide-wing'd sunset of the misty marsh 
Glared on a huge machicolated tower 
That stood with open doors, whereout was roll'd 
A roar of riot, as from men secure 
Amid their marshes, rufhans at their ease 
Among their harlot-brides, an evil song. 
'Lo there,' said one of Arthur's youth, for there. 
High on a grim dead tree before the tower, 
A goodly brother of the Table Round 
Swung by the neck : and on the boughs a shield 
Showing a shower of blood in a field noir. 
And therebeside a horn, inflamed the knights 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. lOQ 

At that dishonor done the gilded spur, 

Till each would clash the shield and blow the horn. 

But Arthur waved them back. Alone he rode. 

Then at the dry harsh roar of the great horn, 

That sent the face of all the marsh aloft 

An ever upward-rushing storm and cloud 

Of shriek and plume, the Red Knight heard, and all, 440 

Even to tipmost lance and topmost helm. 

In blood-red armor sallying, howl'd to the King : 

'The teeth of Hell flay bare and gnash thee flat! — 
Lo ! art thou not that eunuch-hearted king 
Who fain had dipt free manhood from the world — 
The woman-worshipper ? Yea, God's curse, and I ! 
Slain was the brother of my paramour 
By a knight of thine, and I that heard her whine 
And snivel, being eunuch-hearted too, 

Sware by the scorpion-worm that twists in hell 450 

And stings itself to everlasting death, 
To hang whatever knight of thine I fought 
And tumbled. Art thou king ? — Look to thy life ! ' 

He ended : Arthur knew the voice ; the face 
Wellnigh was helmet-hidden, and the name 
Went wandering somewhere darkling in his mind. 
And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, 
But let the drunkard, as he stretch'd from horse 
To strike him, overbalancing his bulk, 

Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp 460 

Fall, as the crest of some slow-arching wave, . 
Heard in dead night along that table-shore. 
Drops flat, and after the great waters break 
Whitening for half a league, and thin thernselves, 
Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud, 



no IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

From less and less to nothing ; thus he fell 

Head-heavy ; then the knights, who watch'd him, roar'd 

And shouted and leapt down upon the fallen, 

There trampled out his face from being known. 

And sank his head in mire, and slimed themselves ; 470 

Nor heard the King for their own cries, but sprang 

Thro' open doors, and swording right and left 

Men, women, on their sodden faces, hurl'd 

The tables over and the wines, and slew 

Till all the rafters ran with woman-yells, 

And all the pavement stream'd with massacre : 

Then, echoing yell with yell, they fired the tower, 

Which half that autumn night, like the live North, 

Red-pulsing up thro' Alioth and Alcor, 

Made all above it, and a hundred meres 480 

About it, as the water Moab saw 

Come round by the east, and out beyond them fiush'd 

The long low dune and lazy-plunging sea. 

So all the ways were safe from shore to shore, 
But in the heart of Arthur pain was lord. 

Then, out of Tristram waking, the red dream 
Fled with a shout, and that low lodge return'd, 
Mid-forest, and the wind among the boughs. 
He whistled his good war-horse left to graze 
Among the forest greens, vaulted upon him, 490 

And rode beneath an ever-showering leaf, 
Till one lone woman, weeping near a cross, 
Stay'd him. '.Why weep ye.?' 'Lord,' she said, 'my man 
Hath left me or is dead ; ' whereon he thought — 
' What, if she hate me now ? I would not this. 
What, if she love me still ? I would not that. 
I know not what I would ' — but said to her, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. I 

'Yet weep not thou, lest, if thy mate return, 
He find thy favor changed and love thee not ' — 
Then pressing day by day thro' Lyonnesse 
Last in a roky hollow, belling, heard 
The hounds of Mark, and felt the goodly hounds 
Yelp at his heart, but, turning, past and gain'd 
Tintagil, half in sea and high on land, 
A crown of towers. 

Down in a casement sat, 
A low sea-sunset glorying round her hair 
And glossy-throated grace, Isolt the queen. 
And wdaen she heard the feet of Tristram grind 
The spiring stone that scaled about her tower, 
Flush'd, started, met him at the doors, and there 
Belted his body with her white embrace, 
Crying aloud : ' Not Mark — not Mark, my soul ! 
The footstep flutter'd me at first : not he ! 
Catlike thro' his own castle steals my Mark, 
But warrior-wise thou stridest thro' his halls 
Who hates thee, as I him — even to the death. 
My soul, I felt my hatred for my Mark 
Quicken within me, and knew that thou wert nigh.' 
To whom Sir Tristram smiling, ' I am here : 
Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.' 

And drawing somewhat backward she replied : 
' Can he be wrong'd who is not even his own. 
But save for dread of thee had beaten me, 
Scratch'd, bitten, blinded, marr'd me somehow — Mark? 
What rights are his that dare not strike for them ? 
Not lift a hand — not, tho' he found me thus ! 
But harken ! have ye met him ? hence he went 
To-day for three days' hunting — as he said — 



112 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And SO returns belike within an hour. 

Mark's way, my soul ! — but eat not thou with Mark, 

Because he hates thee even more than fears, 

Nor drink ; and when thou passest any wood 

Close vizor, lest an arrow from the bush 

Should leave me all alone with Mark and hell. 

My God, the measure of my hate for Mark 

Is as the measure of my love for thee ! ' 

So, pluck'd one way by hate and one by love, 
Drain'd of her force, again she sat, and spake 
To Tristram, as he knelt before her, saying : 
' O hunter, and O blower of the horn, 
Harper, and thou hast been a rover too, 
For, ere I mated with my shambling king. 
Ye twain had fallen out about the bride 
Of one — his name is out of me — the prize. 
If prize she were — what marvel ? — she could see — 
Thine, friend ; and ever since my craven seeks 
To wreck thee villainously : but, O Sir Knight, 
What dame or damsel have ye kneel'd to last? ' 

And Tristram, ' Last to my Queen Paramount, 
Here now to my queen paramount of love 
And loveliness — ay, lovelier than when first 
Her light feet fell on our rough Lyonnesse, 
Sailing from Ireland.' 

Softly laugh 'd Isolt : 
' Flatter me not, for hath not our great Queen 
My dole of beauty trebled ? ' and he said : 
' Her beauty is her beauty, and thine thine, 
And thine is more to me — soft,, gracious, kind — 
Save when thy Mark is kindled on thy lips 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT II3 

Most gracious ; but she, haughty, even to him, 

Lancelot ; for I have seen him wan enow s6o 

To make one doubt if ever the great Queen 

Have yielded him her love.' 

To whom Isolt : 
' Ah, then, false hunter and false harper, thou 
Who brakest thro' the scruple of my bond, 
Calling me thy white hind, and saying to me 
That Guinevere had sinn'd against the highest, 
And I — misyoked with such a want of man — 
That I could hardly sin against the lowest.' 

He answer'd : ' O my soul, be comforted ! 
If this be sweet, to sin in leading-strings, 37° 

If here be comfort, and if ours be sin, 
Crown'd warrant had we for the crowning sin 
That made us happy ; but how ye greet me — fear 
And fault and doubt — no word of that fond tale — 
Thy deep heart-yearnings, thy sweet memories 
Of Tristram in that year he was away.' 

And, saddening on the sudden, spake Isolt : 
' I had forgotten all in my strong joy 
To see thee — yearnings ? — ay ! for, hour by hour, 
Here in the never-ended afternoon, 5S0 

O, sweeter than all memories of thee. 
Deeper than any yearnings after thee 
Seem'd those far-rolling, westward-smiling seas, 
Watch'd from this tower. Isolt of Britain dash'd 
Before Isolt of Brittany on the strand, 
Would that have chill'd her bride-kiss ? Wedded her ? 
Fought in her father's battles ? wounded there ? 
The King was all fulfill'd with gratefulness, 

VOL. II. 



114 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And she, my namesake of the hands, that heal'd 
Thy hurt and heart with unguent and caress — 
Well — can I wish her any huger wrong 
Than having known thee ? her too hast thou left 
To pine and waste in those sweet memories. 
O, were I not my Mark's, by whom all men 
Are noble, I should hate thee more than love.' 

And Tristram, fondling her light hands, replied : 
' Grace, queen, for being loved : she loved me well. 
Did I love her ? the name at least I loved. 
Isolt ? — I fought his battles, for Isolt ! 
The night was dark ; the true star set. Isolt ! 
The name was ruler of the dark — Isolt ? 
Care not for her ! patient, and prayerful, meek, 
Pale-blooded, she will yield herself to God.' 

And Isolt answer'd : ' Yea, and why not I ? 
Mine is the larger need, who am not meek. 
Pale-blooded, prayerful. Let me tell thee now. 
Here one black, mute midsummer night I sat, 
Lonely, but musing on thee, wondering where. 
Murmuring a light song I had heard thee sing, 
And once or twice I spake thy name aloud. 
Then flash'd a levin-brand ; and near me stood, 
In fuming sulphur blue and green, a fiend — 
Mark's way to steal behind one in the dark — 
For there was Mark : " He has wedded her," he said. 
Not said, but hiss'd it ; then this crown of towers 
So shook to such a roar of all the sky. 
That here in utter dark I swoon'd away. 
And woke again in utter dark, and cried, 
" I will flee hence and give myself to God " — 
And thou wert lying in thy new leman's arms.' 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. II5 

Then Tristram, ever dallying with her hand, 
' May God be with thee, sweet, when old and gray, 
And past desire ! ' a saying that anger'd her. 
' " May God be with thee, sweet, when thou art old, 
And sweet no more to me ! " I need Him now. 
For when had Lancelot utter'd aught so gross 
Even to the swineherd's malkin in the mast? 
The greater man the greater courtesy. 
Far other was the Tristram, Arthur's knight ! 
But thou, thro' ever harrying thy wild beasts — 630 

Save that to touch a harp, tilt with a lance 
Becomes thee well — art grown wild beast thyself. 
How darest thou, if lover, push me even 
In fancy from thy side, and set me far 
In the gray distance, half a life away, 
Her to be loved no more ? Unsay it, unswear ! 
Flatter me rather, seeing me so weak. 
Broken with Mark and hate and solitude. 
Thy marriage and mine own, that I should suck 
Lies like sweet wines : lie to me ; I believe. 640 

Will ye not lie ? not swear, as there ye kneel, 
And solemnly as when ye sware to him. 
The man of men, our King — My God, the power 
Was once in vows when men believed the King ! 
They lied not then who sware, and thro' their vows 
The King prevailing made his realm : — I say, 
Swear to me thou wilt love me even when old, 
Gray-hair'd, and past desire, and in despair.' 

Then Tristram, pacing moodily up and down : 
' Vows ! did you keep the vow you made to Mark 650 

More than I mine ? Lied, say ye .? Nay, but learnt, 
The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself — 
My knighthood taught me this — ay, being snapt — 



Il6 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

We run more counter to the soul thereof 

Than had we never sworn. I swear no more. 

I swore to the great King, and am forsworn. 

For once — even to the height — I honor'd him. 

" Man, is he man at all ? " methought, when first 

I rode from our rough Lyonnesse, and beheld 

That victor of the Pagan throned in hall — 660 

His hair, a sun that ray'd from off a brow 

Like hill-snow high in heaven, the steel-blue eyes, 

The golden beard that clothed his lips with light — , 

Moreover, that weird legend of his birth, 

With Merlin's mystic babble about his end 

Amazed me ; then, his foot was on a stool 

Shaped as a dragon ; he seem'd to me no man, 

But Michael trampling Satan ; so I sware. 

Being amazed : but this went by — The vows ! 

O, ay — the wholesome madness of an hour — 670 

They served their use, their time ; for every knight 

Believed himself a greater than himself, 

And every follower eyed him as a God; 

Till he, being lifted up beyond himself. 

Did mightier deeds than elsewise he had done, 

And so the realm was made : but then their vows — 

First mainly thro' that sullying of our Queen — 

Began to gall the knighthood, asking whence 

Had Arthur right to bind them to himself? 

Dropt down from heaven ? wash'd up from out the deep .'' 6So 

They fail'd to trace him thro' the flesh and blood 

Of our old kings : whence then ? a doubtful lord 

To bind them by inviolable vows, 

Which flesh and blood perforce would violate : 

For feel this arm of mine — the tide within 

Red with free chase and heather-scented air, 

Pulsing full man ; can Arthur make me pure 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT 11/ 

As any maiden child ? lock up my tongue 

From uttering freely what I freely hear ? 

Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it. 6go 

And worldling of the world am I, and know 

The ptarmigan that whitens ere his hour 

Woos his own end ; we are not angels here 

Nor shall be : vows — I am woodman of the woods, 

And hear the garnet-headed yafhngale 

Mock them : my soul, we love but while we may ; 

And therefore is my love so large for thee, 

Seeing it is not bounded save by love.' 

Here ending, he moved toward her, and she said : 
' Good : an I turn'd away my love for thee 700 

To some one thrice as courteous as thyself — 
For courtesy wins woman all as well 
As valor may, but he that closes both 
Is perfect, he is Lancelot — taller indeed. 
Rosier and comelier, thou — but say I loved 
This knightliest of all knights, and cast thee back 
Thine own small saw, " We love but while we may," 
Well then, what answer ? ' 

He that while she spake, 
Mindful of what he brought to adorn her with. 
The jewels, had let one finger lightly touch 710 

The warm white apple of her throat, replied, 
' Press this a little closer, sweet, until — 
Come, I am hunger'd and half-anger'd — meat, 
Wine, wine — and I will love thee to the death, 
And out beyond into the dream to come.' 

So then, when both were brought to full accord, 
She rose, and set before him all he will'd ; 



Il8 IDYLLS OF THE IvING. 

And after these had comforted the blood 

With meats and wines, and satiated their hearts — 

Now talking of their woodland paradise, 

The deer, the dews, the fern, the founts, the lawns ; 

Now mocking at the much ungainliness, 

And craven shifts, and long crane legs of Mark — 

Then Tristram laughing caught the harp and sang : 

' Ay, ay, O, ay — the winds that bend the brier ! 
A star in heaven, a star within the mere ! 
Ay, ay, O, ay — a star was my desire. 
And one was far apart and one was near : 
Ay, ay, O, ay — the winds that bow the grass ! 
And one was water and one star was fire. 
And one will ever shine and one will pass. 
Ay, ay, O, ay — the winds that move the mere ! ' 

Then in the light's last glimmer Tristram show'd 
And swung the ruby carcanet. She cried, 
' The collar of some Order, which our King 
Hath newly founded, all for thee, my soul. 
For thee, to yield thee grace beyond thy peers.' 

' Not so, my queen,' he said, ' but the red fruit 
Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-heaven, 
And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize, 
And hither brought by Tristram for his last 
Love-offering and peace-offering unto thee.' 

He spoke, he turn'd, then, flinging round her neck, 
Claspt it, and cried, ' Thine Order, O ray queen ! ' 
But, while he bow'd to kiss the jewell'd throat. 
Out of the dark, just as the lips had touch'd, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 1 19 

Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek — 

' Mark's way,' said Mark, and clove him thro' the brain. 

That night came Arthur home, and while he climb'd. 
All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom, 750 

The stairway to the hall, and look'd and saw 
The great Queen's bower was dark, — about his feet 
A voice clung sobbing till he question'd it, 
' What art thou ? ' and the voice about his feet 
Sent up an answer, sobbing, ' I am thy fool, 
And I shall never make thee smile again.' 



GUINEVERE. 

Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat 
There in the holy house at Almesbury 
Weeping, none with her save a little maid, 
A novice : one low light betwixt them burn'd 
Blurr'd by the creeping mist, for all abroad, 
Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full. 
The white mist, like a face-cloth to the face, 
Clung to the dead earth, and the land was still. 

For hither had she fled, her cause of flight 
Sir Modred ; he that like a subtle beast 
Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, 
Ready to spring, waiting a chance : for this 
He chill'd the popular praises of the King 
With silent smiles of slow disparagement ; 
And tamper'd with the Lords of the White Horse, 
Heathen, the brood by Hengist left ; and sought 
To make disruption in the Table Round 
Of Arthur, and to splinter it into feuds 
Serving his traitorous end ; and all his aims 
Were sharpen'd by strong hate for Lancelot. 

For thus it chanced one morn when all the court, 
Green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the may, 
Had been — their wont — a-maying and return'd, 
That Modred still in green, all ear and eye, 
Climb'd to the high top of the garden-wall 



GUINEVERE. 

To spy some secret scandal if he might, 

And saw the Queen who sat betwixt her best 

Enid and Hssome Vivien, of her court 

The wiliest and the worst ; and more than this 

He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing by 

Spied where he couch'd, and as the gardener's hand 

Picks from the colewort a green caterpillar. 

So from the high wall and the flowering grove 

Of grasses Lancelot pluck'd him by the heel, 

And cast him as a worm upon the way ; 

But when he knew the prince tho' marr'd with dust, 

He, reverencing king's blood in a bad man, 

Made such excuses as he might, and these 

Full knightly without scorn : for in those days 

No knight of Arthur's noblest dealt in scorn ; 

But, if a man were halt or hunch'd, in him 

By those whom God had made full-limb'd and tall, 

Scorn was allow'd as part of his defect. 

And he was answer'd softly by the King 

And all his Table. So Sir Lancelot holp 

To raise the prince, who rising twice or thrice 

Full sharply smote his knees, and smiled, and went : 

But, ever after, the small violence done 

Rankled in him and rufHed all his heart. 

As the sharp wind that ruffles all day long 

A little bitter pool about a stone 

On the bare coast. 

But when Sir Lancelot told 
This matter to the Queen, at first she laugh'd 
Lightly, to think of Modred's dusty fall. 
Then shudder'd, as the village wife who cries, 
' I shudder, some one steps across my grave ; ' 
Then laugh'd again, but faintlier, for indeed 



122 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

She half-foresaw that he, the subtle beast, 

Would track her guilt until he found, and hers 

Would be for evermore a name of scorn. 

Henceforward rarely could she front in hall, 

Or elsewhere, Modred's narrow foxy face, 

Heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye. ' 

Henceforward too, the Powers that tend the soul. 

To help it from the death that cannot die, 

And save it even in extremes, began 

To vex and plague her. Many a time for hours, 

Beside the placid breathings of the King, 

In the dead night, grim faces came and went 

Before her, or a vague spiritual fear — 

Like to some doubtful noise of creaking doors, 

Heard by the watcher in a haunted house, 

That keeps the rust of murder on the walls — 

Held her awake : or if she slept she dream'd 

An awful dream ; for then she seem'd to stand 

On some vast plain before a setting sun. 

And from the sun there swiftly made at her 

A ghastly something, and its shadow flew 

Before it till it touch'd her, and she turn'd — 

When lo ! her own, that broadening from her feet, . 

And blackening, swallow'd all the land, and in it 

Far cities burnt, and with a cry she woke. 

And all this trouble did not pass but grew, 

Till even the clear face of the guileless King, 

And trustful courtesies of household life, 

Became her bane ; and at the last she said, 

' O Lancelot, get thee hence to thine own land, 

For if thou tarry we shall meet again, 

And if we meet again some evil chance 

Will make the smouldering scandal break and blaze 

Before the people and our lord the King.' 



GUINEVERE. 1 23 

And Lancelot ever promised, but remain'd, 

And still they met and met. Again she said, 

' O Lancelot, if thou love me get thee hence.' 

And then they were agreed upon a night — 

When the good King should not be there — to meet 

And part for ever. Vivien, lurking, heard. 

She told Sir Modred. Passion-pale they met 

And greeted. Hands in hands, and eye to eye, 

Low on the border of her couch they sat 100 

Stammering and staring. It was their last hour, 

A madness of farewells. And Modred brought 

His creatures to the basement of the tower 

For testimony ; and crying with full voice, 

' Traitor, come out, ye are trapt at last,' aroused 

Lancelot, who rushing outward lionlike 

Leapt on him, and hurl'd him headlong, and he fell 

Stunn'd, and his creatures took and bare him off, 

And all was still. Then she, ' The end is come, 

And I am shamed for ever ; ' and he said : no 

' Mine be the shame ; mine was the sin : but rise. 

And fly to my strong castle over-seas : 

There will I hide thee till my life shall end. 

There hold thee with my life against the world.' 

She answer'd : ' Lancelot, wilt thou hold me so ? 

Nay, friend, for we have taken our farewells. 

Would God that thou couldst hide me from myself ! 

Mine is the shame, for I was wife, and thou 

Unwedded ; yet rise now, and let us fly. 

For I will draw me into sanctuary, 120 

And bide my doom.' So Lancelot got her horse. 

Set her thereon, and mounted on his own, 

And then they rode to the divided way. 

There kiss'd, and parted weeping : for he past, 

Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen, 



124 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Back to his land ; but she to Almesbury 

Fled all night long by glimmering waste and weald, 

And heard the spirits of the waste and weald 

Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them moan : 

And in herself she moan'd, 'Too late, too late ! ' 

Till in the cold wind that foreruns the morn, 

A blot in heaven, the raven, flying high, 

Croak'd, and she thought, ' He spies a field of death ; 

For now the heathen of the Northern Sea, 

Lured by the crimes and frailties of the court, 

Begin to slay the folk and spoil the land.' 

And when she came to Almesbury she spake 
There to the nuns, and said, ' Mine enemies 
Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood, 
Receive and yield me sanctuary, nor ask 
Her name to whom ye yield it till her time 
To tell you ; ' and her beauty, grace, and power 
Wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared 
To ask it. 

So the stately Queen abode 
For many a week, unknown, among the nuns. 
Nor with them mix'd, nor told her name, nor sought, 
Wrapt in her grief, for housel or for shrift. 
But communed only with the little maid, 
Who pleased her with a babbling heedlessness 
Which often lured her from herself ; but now. 
This night, a rumor wildly blown about 
Came that Sir Modred had usurp'd the realm 
And leagued him with the heathen, while the King 
Was waging war on Lancelot : then she thought, 
' With what a hate the people and the King 
Must hate me,' and bow'd down upon her hands 



GUINEVERE. 1 25 

Silent, until the little maid, who brook'd 

No silence, brake it, uttering ' Late ! so late ! 

What hour, I wonder now ? ' and when she drew 

No answer, by and by began to hum 160 

An air the nuns had taught her : * Late, so late ! ' 

Which when she heard, the Queen look'd up, and said, 

' O maiden, if indeed ye list to sing. 

Sing, and unbind my heart that I may weep.' 

Whereat full willingly sang the little maid. 

' Late, late, so late ! and dark the night and chill ! 
Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still. 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now, 

' No light had we : for that we do repent, 
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent. 170 

Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

' No light : so late ! and dark and chill the night ! 
O, let us in, that we may find the light ! 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now; 

' Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet t 
O, let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet ! 
No, no, too late ! ye cannot enter now.' 

So sang the novice, while full passionately, 
Her head upon her hands, remembering 
Her thought when first she came, wept the sad Queen. 180 
Then said the little novice prattling to her : 

' O pray you, noble lady, weep no more ; 
But let my words — the words of one so small. 
Who knowing nothing knows but to obey. 



126 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And if I do not there is penance given — 

Comfort your sorrows ; for they do not flow 

From evil done : right sure am I of that, 

Who see your tender grace and stateliness. 

But weigh your sorrows with our lord the King's, 

And weighing find them less ; for gone is he 

To wage grim war against Sir Lancelot there, 

Round that strong castle where he holds the Queen ; 

And Modred whom he left in charge of all, 

The traitor — Ah, sweet lady, the King's grief 

For his own self, and his own Queen, and realm, 

Must needs be thrice as great as any of ours ! 

For me, I thank the saints, I am not great ; 

For if there ever come a grief to me 

I cry my cry in silence, and have done : 

None knows it, and my tears have brought me good. 

But even were the griefs of little ones 

As great as those of great ones, yet this grief 

Is added to the griefs the great must bear. 

That, howsoever much they may desire 

Silence, they cannot weep behind a cloud ; 

As even here they talk at Almesbury 

About the good King and his wicked Queen, 

And were I such a King with such a Queen, 

Well might I wish to veil her wickedness. 

But were I such a King it could not be.' 

Then to her own sad heart mufter'd the Queen, 
'Will the child kill me with her innocent talk.? ' 
But openly she answer'd, ' Must not I, 
If this false traitor have displaced his lord, 
Grieve with the common grief of all the realm t ' 

'Yea,' said the maid, ' this is all woman's grief, 
That she is woman, whose disloyal life 



GUINEVERE. 12/ 

Hath wrought confusion in the Table Round 

Which good King Arthur founded, years ago, 

With signs and miracles and wonders, there 220 

At Camelot, ere the coming of the Queen.' 

Then thought the Queen within herself again, 
' Will the child kill me with her foolish prate ? ' 
But openly she spake and said to her, 
' O little maid, shut in by nunnery walls. 
What canst thou know of Kings and Tables Round, 
Or what of signs and wonders, but the signs 
And simple miracles of thy nunnery ? ' 

To whom the little novice garrulously : 
' Yea, but I know : the land was full of signs 230 

And wonders ere the coming of the Queen. 
So said my father, and himself was knight 
Of the great Table — at the founding of it. 
And rode thereto from Lyonnesse ; and he said 
That as he rode, an hour or maybe twain 
After the sunset, down the coast, he heard 
Strange music, and he paused, and turning — there, 
All down the lonely coast of Lyonnesse, 
Each with a beacon-star upon his head. 
And with a wild sea-light about his feet, 240 

He saw them — headland after headland flame 
Far on into the rich heart of the west : 
And in the light the white mermaiden swam. 
And strong man-breasted things stood from the sea. 
And sent a deep sea-voice thro' all the land. 
To which the little elves of chasm and cleft 
Made answer, sounding like a distant horn. 
So said my father — yea, and furthermore. 
Next morning, while he past the dim-lit woods, 
Himself beheld three spirits mad with joy 250 



128 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower, 
That shook beneath them as the thistle shakes 
When three gray linnets wrangle for the seed : 
And still at evenings on before his horse 
The flickering fairy-circle wheel'd and broke 
Flying, and link'd again, and wheel'd and broke 
Flying, for all the land was full of life. 
And when at last he came to Camelot, 
A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand 
Swung round the lighted lantern of the hall ; 
And in the hall itself was such a feast 
As never man had dream'd ; for every knight 
Had whatsoever meat he long'd for served 
By hands unseen ; and even as he said 
Down in the cellars merry bloated things 
Shoulder'd the spigot, straddling on the butts 
While the wine ran : so glad were spirits and men 
Before the coming of the sinful Queen.' 

Then spake the Queen and somewhat bitterly, 
' Were they so glad ? ill prophets were they all, 
Spirits and men : could none of them foresee, 
Not even thy wise father with his signs 
And wonders, what has fallen upon the realm t ' 

To whom the novice garrulously again : 
' Yea, one, a bard \ of whom my father said, 
Full many a noble war-song had he sung, 
Even in the presence of an enemy's fleet. 
Between the steep cliff and the coming wave ; 
And many a mystic lay of life and death 
Had chanted on the smoky mountain-tops, 
When round him bent the spirits of the hills 
With all their dewy hair blown back like flame. 



GUINEVERE. 1 29 

So said my father — and that night the bard 

Sang Arthur's glorious wars, and sang the King 

As wellnigh more than man, and rail'd at those 

Who call'd him the false son of Gorlois : 

For there was no man knew from whence he came ; 

But after tempest, when the long wave broke 

All down the thundering shores of Bude and Bos, 

There came a day as still as heaven, and then 290 

They found a naked child upon the sands 

Of dark Tintagil by the Cornish sea, 

And that was Arthur ; and they foster'd him 

Till he by miracle was approven King : 

And that his grave should be a mystery 

From all men, like his birth ; and could he find 

A woman in her womanhood as great 

As he was in his manhood, then, he sang. 

The twain together well might change the world. 

But even in the middle of his song 300 

He falter'd, and his hand fell from the harp, 

And pale he turn'd, and reel'd, and would have fallen, 

But that they stay'd him up ; nor would he tell 

His vision ; but what doubt that he foresaw 

This evil work of Lancelot and the Queen ? ' 

Then thought the Queen, ' Lo ! they have set her on, 
Our simple-seeming abbess and her nuns, 
To play upon me,' and bow'd her head nor spake. 
Whereat the novice crying, with clasp'd hands. 
Shame on her own garrulity garrulously, 310 

Said the good nuns would check her gadding tongue 
Full often, ' and, sweet lady, if I seem 
To vex an ear too sad to listen to me. 
Unmannerly, with prattUng and the tales 
Which my good father told me, check me too 

VOL. II. 



130 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Nor let me shame my father's memory, one 

Of noblest manners, tho' himself would say 

Sir Lancelot had the noblest ; and he died, 

Kiird in a tilt, come next, five summers back, 

And left me ; but of others who remain, 

And of the two first-famed for courtesy — 

And pray you check me if I ask amiss — 

But pray you, which had noblest, while you moved 

Among them, Lancelot or our lord the King ? ' 

Then the pale Queen look'd up and answer'd her : 
' Sir Lancelot, as became a noble knight. 
Was gracious to all ladies, and the same 
In open battle or the tilting-field 
Forbore his own advantage, and the King 
In open battle or the tilting-field 
Forbore his own advantage, and these two 
Were the most nobly-manner'd men of all ; 
For manners are not idle, but the fruit 
Of loyal nature and of noble mind.' 

' Yea,' said the maid, 'be manners such fair fruit ? 
Then Lancelot's needs must be a thousand-fold 
Less noble, being, as all rumor runs, 
The most disloyal friend in all the world.' 

To which a mournful answer made the Queen : 
' O, closed about by narrowing nunnery-walls, 
What knowest thou of the world and all its lights 
And shadows, all the wealth and all the woe ? 
If ever Lancelot, that most noble knight. 
Were for one hour less noble than himself, 
Pray for him that he scape the doom of fire. 
And weep for her who drew him to his doom.' 



GUINEVERE. 13I 

'Yea,' said the little novice, 'I pray for both; 
But I should all as soon believe that his, 
Sir Lancelot's, were as noble as the King's, 
As I could think, sweet lady, yours would be 350 

Such as they are, were you the sinful Queen.' 

So she, like many another babbler, hurt 
Whom she would soothe, and harm'd where she would 

heal; 
For here a sudden flush of wrathful heat 
Fired all the pale face of the Queen, who cried : 
* Such as thou art be never maiden more 
For ever ! thou their tool, set on to plague 
And play upon and harry me, petty spy 
And traitress ! ' When that storm of anger brake 
From Guinevere, aghast the maiden rose, 360 

White as her veil, and stood before the Queen 
As tremulously as foam upon the beach 
Stands in a wind, ready to break and fly. 
And when the Queen had added, ' Get thee hence 1 ' 
Fled frighted. Then that other left alone 
Sigh'd, and began to gather heart again. 
Saying in herself : ' The simple, fearful child 
Meant nothing, but my own too-fearful guilt. 
Simpler than any child, betrays itself. 

But help me. Heaven, for surely I repent ! 370 

For what is true repentance but in thought — 
Not even in inmost thought to think again 
The sins that made the past so pleasant to us ? 
And I have sworn never to see him more, 
To see him more.' 

And even in saying this, 
Her memory from old habit of the mind 



132 IDYLLS OF THE I^ING. 

Went slipping back upon the golden days 

In which she saw him first, when Lancelot came, 

Reputed the best knight and goodliest man, 

Ambassador, to yield her to his lord 

Arthur, and led her forth, and far ahead 

Of his and her retinue moving, they, 

Rapt in sweet talk or lively, all on love 

And sport and tilts and pleasure, — for the time 

Was may-time, and as yet no sin was dream'd, — 

Rode under groves that look'd a paradise 

Of blossom, over sheets of hyacinth 

That seem'd the heavens upbreaking thro' the earth, 

And on from hill to hill, and every day 

Beheld at noon in sorne delicious dale 

The silk pavilions of King Arthur raised 

For brief repast or afternoon repose 

By couriers gone before ; and on again, 

Till yet once more ere set of sun they saw 

The Dragon of the great Pendragonship, 

That crown'd the state pavilion of the King, 

Blaze by the rushing brook or silent well. 

But when the Queen immersed in such a trance, 
And moving thro' the past unconsciously, 
Came to that point where first she saw the King 
Ride toward her from the city, sigh'd to find 
Her journey done, glanced at him, thought him cold. 
High, self-contain'd, and passionless, not like him, 
' Not like my Lancelot ' — Avhile she brooded thus 
And grew half-guilty in her thoughts again, 
There rode an armed warrior to the doors. 
A murmuring whisper thro' the nunnery ran. 
Then on a sudden a cry, ' The King ! ' She sat 
Stiff-stricken, listening ; but when armed feet 



GUINEVERE. 1 33 

Thro' the long gallery from the outer doors 410 

Rang coming, prone from off her seat she fell, 

And grovell'd with her face against the floor. 

There with her milk-white arms and shadowy hair 

She made her face a darkness from the King, 

And in the darkness heard his armed feet 

Pause by her •, then came silence, then a voice, 

Monotonous and hollow like a ghost's 

Denouncing judgment, but; tho' changed, the King's : 

' Liest thou here so low, the child of one 
I honor'd, happy, dead before thy shame ? ' 420 

Well is it that no child is born of thee. 
The children born of thee are sword and fire, 
Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws, 
The craft of kindred and the godless hosts 
Of heathen swarming o'er the Northern Sea ; 
Whom I, while yet Sir Lancelot, my right arm. 
The mightiest of my knights, abode with me. 
Have everywhere about this land of Christ 
In twelve great battles ruining overthrown. 
And knowest thou now from whence I come — from him, 430 
From waging bitter war with him ; and he. 
That did not shun to smite me in worse way, 
Had yet that grace of courtesy in him left, 
He spared to lift his hand against the King 
Who made him knight : but many a knight was slain ; 
And many more and all his kith and kin 
Clave to him, and abode in his own land. 
And many more when Modred raised revolt, 
Forgetful of their troth and fealty, clave 
To Modred, and a remnant stays with me. 440 

And of this remnant will I leave a part, 
True men who love me still, for whom I live. 



134 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

To guard thee in the wild hour coming on, 

Lest but a hair of this low head be harm'd. 

Fear not : thou shalt be guarded till my death, 

Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies 

Have err'd not, that I march to meet my doom. 

Thou hast not made my life so sweet to me. 

That I the King should greatly care to live ; 

For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my life. 

Bear with me for the last time while I show. 

Even for thy sake, the sin which thou hast sinn'd. 

For when the Roman left us, and their law 

Relax'd its hold upon us, and the ways 

Were fill'd with rapine, here and there a deed 

Of prowess done redress'd a random wrong. 

But I was first of all the kings who drew 

The knighthood-errant of this realm in all 

The realms together under me, their Head, 

In that fair Order of my Table Round, 

A glorious company, the flower of men, 

To serve as model for the mighty world, 

And be the fair beginning of a time. 

I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 

To reverence the King, as if he were 

Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 

To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 

To ride abroad redressing human wrongs. 

To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it. 

To honor his own word as if his God's, 

To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, 

To love one maiden only, cleave to her, 

And worship her by years of noble deeds, 

Until they won her ; for indeed I knew 

Of no more subtle master under heaven 

Than is the maiden passion for a maid. 



GUINEVERE. 1 35 

Not only to keep down the base in man, 

But teach high thought, and amiable words 

And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 

And love of truth, and all that makes a man. 480 

And all this throve before I wedded thee, 

Believing, " Lo, mine helpmate, one to feel 

My purpose and rejoicing in my joy ! " 

Then came thy shameful sin with Lancelot ; 

Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt ; 

Then others, following these my mightiest knights, 

And drawing foul ensample from fair names, 

Sinn'd also, till the loathsome opposite 

Of all my heart had destined did obtain, 

And all thro' thee ! so that this life of mine 490 

I guard as God's high gift from scathe and wrong, 

Not greatly care to lose ; but rather think 

How sad it were for Arthur, should he live, 

To sit once more within his lonely hall, 

And miss the wonted number of my knights. 

And miss to hear high talk of noble deeds 

As in the golden days before thy sin. 

For which of us who might be left could speak 

Of the pure heart, nor seem to glance at thee ? 

And in thy bowers of Camelot or of Usk soo 

Thy shadow still would glide from room to room, 

And I should evermore be vext with thee 

In hanging robe or vacant ornament, 

Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair. 

For think not, tho' thou wouldst not love thy lord, 

Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee. 

I am not made of so slight elements. 

Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame. 

I hold that man the worst of public foes 

Who either for his own or children's sake, %w 



136 IDYLLS OF THE ICING. 

To save his blood from scandal, lets the wife 

Whom he knows false abide and rule the house : 

For being thro' his cowardice allow'd 

Her station, taken everywhere for pure, 

She like a new disease, unknown to men, 

Creeps, no precaution used, among the crowd, 

Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes, and saps 

The fealty of our friends, and stirs the pulse 

With devil's leaps, and poisons half the young. 

Worst of the worst were that man he that reigns ! 520 

Better the King's waste hearth and aching heart 

Than thou reseated in thy place of light, 

The mockery of my people and their bane ! ' 

He paused, and in the pause she crept an inch 
Nearer, and laid her hands about his feet. 
Far off a solitary trumpet blew. 
Then waiting by the doors the war-horse neigh'd 
As at a friend's voice, and he spake again : 

' Yet think not that I come to urge thy crimes \ 
I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere, 530 

I, whose vast pity almost makes me die 
To see thee, laying there thy golden head. 
My pride in happier summers, at my feet. 
The wrath which forced my thoughts on that fierce law, 
The doom of treason and the flaming death, — 
When first I learnt thee hidden here, — is past. 
The pang — which, while I weigh'd thy heart with one 
Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee, 
Made my tears burn — is also past — in part. 
And all is past, the sin is sinn'd, and I, S4o 

Lo, I forgive thee, as Eternal God 
Forgives ! do thou for thine own soul the rest. 



GUINEVERE. 1 37 

But how to take last leave of all I loved ? 

golden hair, with which I used to play- 
Not knowing ! O imperial-moulded form. 
And beauty such as never woman wore, 
Until it came a kingdom's curse with thee — 

1 cannot touch thy lips, they are not mine, 

But Lancelot's ; nay, they never were the King's. 

I cannot take thy hand ; that too is flesh, 550 

And in the flesh thou hast sinn'd ; and mine own flesh, 

Here looking down on thine polluted, cries, 

" I loathe thee : " yet not less, O Guinevere, 

For I was ever virgin save for thee. 

My love thro' flesh hath wrought into my life 

So far that my doom is, I love thee still. 

Let no man dream but that I love thee still. 

Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul, 

And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, 

Hereafter in that world where all are pure s6o 

We two may meet before high God, and thou 

Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know 

I am thine husband — not a smaller soul, 

Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, 

I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence. 

Thro' the thick night I hear the trumpet blow : 

They summon me their King to lead mine hosts 

Far down to that great battle in the west, 

Where I must strike against the man they call 

My sister's son — no kin of mine, who leagues 570 

With Lords of the White Horse, heathen, and knights. 

Traitors — and strike him dead, and meet myself 

Death, or I know not what mysterious doom. 

And thou remaining here wilt learn the event; 

But hither shall I never come again. 



138 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Never lie by thy side, see thee no more — 
Farewell ! ' 

And while she grovell'd at his feet, 
She felt the King's breath wander o'er her neck, 
And in the darkness o'er her fallen head 
Perceived the waving of his hands that blest. 580 

Then, listening till those armed steps were gone, 
Rose the pale Queen, and in her anguish found 
The casement : ' peradventure,' so she thought, 
' If I might see his face, and not be seen.' 
And lo, he sat on horseback at the door ! 
And near him' the sad nuns with each a light 
Stood, and he gave them charge about the Queen, 
To guard and foster her for evermore. 
And while he spake to these his helm was lower'd. 
To which for crest the golden dragon clung 590 

Of Britain ; so she did not see the face. 
Which then was as an angel's, but she saw, 
Wet with the mists and smitten by the lights, 
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship 
Blaze, making all the night a steam of fire. 
And even then he turn'd ; and more and more 
The moony vapor rolling round the King, 
Who seem'd the phantom of a giant in it, 
Enwound him fold by fold, and made him gray 
And grayer, till himself became as mist 600 

Before her, moving ghostUke to his doom. 

Then she stretch'd out her arms and cried aloud, 
' O Arthur ! ' there her voice brake suddenly. 
Then — as a stream that spouting from a cliff 
Fails in mid air, but gathering at the base 



GUINEVERE. 1 39 

Re-makes itself, and flashes down the vale — 
Went on in passionate utterance : 

'Gone — my lord ! 
Gone thro' my sin to slay and to be slain ! 
And he forgave me, and I could not speak. 
Farewell ? I should have answer'd his farewell. 6io 

His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord the King, 
My own true lord ! how dare I call him mine ? 
The shadow of another cleaves to me, 
And makes me one pollution : he, the King, 
Call'd me polluted : shall I kill myself ? 
What help in that ? I cannot kill my sin, 
If soul be soul ; nor can I kill my shame ; 
No, nor by living can I live it down. 
The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months, 
The months will add themselves and make the years, 620 
The years will roll into the centuries. 
And mine will ever be a name of scorn. 
I must not dwell on that defeat of fame. 
Let the world be ; that is but of the world — 
What else ? what hope ? I think there was a hope, 
Except he mock'd me when he spake of hope ; 
His hope he call'd it ; but he never mocks,. 
For mockery is the fume of little hearts. 
And blessed be the King, who hath forgiven 
My wickedness to him, and left me hope 630 

That in mine own heart I can live down sin 
And be his mate hereafter in the heavens 
Before high God! Ah great and gentle lord, 
Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint 
Among his warring senses, to thy knights — 
To whom my false voluptuous pride, that took 
Full easily all impressions from below, 



I40 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Would not look up, or half-despised the height 

To which I would not or I could not climb — 

I thought I could not breathe in that fine air, 640 

That pure severity of perfect light — 

I yearn'd for warmth and color which I found 

In Lancelot — now I see thee what thou art. 

Thou art the highest and most human too, 

Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there none 

Will tell the King I love him tho' so late ? 

Now — ere he goes to the great battle ? none : 

Myself must tell him in that purer life. 

But now it were too daring. Ah my God, 

What might I not have made of thy fair world, 650 

Had I but loved thy highest creature here ? 

It was my duty to have loved the highest ; 

It surely was my profit had I known ; 

It would have been my pleasure had I seen. 

We needs must love the highest when we see it. 

Not Lancelot, nor another.' 

Here her hand 
Grasp'd, made her vail her eyes : she look'd and saw 
The novice, weeping, suppliant, and said to her, 
' Yea, little maid, for am / not forgiven ? ' 
Then glancing up beheld the holy nuns 660 

All round her, weeping ; and her heart was loosed 
Within her, and she wept with these and said : 

' Ye know me then, that wicked one, who broke 
The vast design and purpose of the King. 
O, shut me round with narrowing nunnery-walls. 
Meek maidens, from the voices crying, " Shame ! " 
I must not scorn myself : he loves me still. 
Let no one dream but that he loves me still. 



GUINEVERE. I4I 

So let me, if you do not shudder at me, 

Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you ; 670 

Wear black and white, and be a nun like you, 

Fast with your fasts, not feasting with your feasts ; 

Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your joys. 

But not rejoicing ; mingle with your rites ; 

Pray and be pray'd for ; lie before your shrines ; 

Do each low office of your holy house ; 

Walk your dim cloister, and distribute dole 

To poor sick people, richer in His eyes 

Who ransom'd us, and haler too than I ; 

And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine own ; 680 

And so wear out in alms-deed and in prayer 

The sombre close of that voluptuous day 

Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King.' 

She said : they took her to themselves ; and she 
Still hoping, fearing ' is it yet too late ? ' 
Dwelt with them, till in time their abbess died. 
Then she, for her good deeds and her pure life, 
And for the power of ministration in her. 
And likewise for the high rank she had borne, 
Was chosen abbess, there, an abbess, lived 690 

For three brief years, and there, an abbess, past 
To where beyond these voices there is peace. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, 
First made and latest left of all the knights, 
Told, when the man was no more than a voice 
In the white winter of his age, to those 
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds. 

For on their march to westward, Bedivere, 
Who slowly paced among the slumbering host, 
Heard in his tent the moanings of the King : 

' I found Him in the shining of the stars, 
I mark'd Him in the flowering of His fields, 
But in His ways with men I find Him not. 
I waged His wars, and now I pass and die. 
O me ! for why is all around us here 
As if some lesser god had made the world, 
But had not force to shape it as he would, 
Till the High God behold it from beyond, 
And enter it, and make it beautiful ? 
Or else as if the world were wholly fair. 
But that these eyes of men are dense and dim, 
And have not power to see it as it is : 
Perchance, because we see not to the close ; — 
For I, being simple, thought to work His will. 
And have but stricken with the sword in vain ; 
And all whereon I lean'd in wife and friend 
Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. I43 

Reels back into the beast, and is no more. 
My God, thou hast forgotten me in my death : 
Nay — God my Christ — I pass but shall not die,' 

Then, ere that last weird battle in the west, 
There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain kill'd 30 

In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Gawain blown 
Along a wandering wind, and past his ear 
Went shrilling: 'Hollow, hollow all delight ! 
Hail, King ! to-morrow thou shalt pass away. 
Farewell ! there is an isle of rest for thee. 
And I am blown along a wandering wind, 
And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight ! ' 
And fainter onward, like wild birds that change 
Their season in the night and wail their way 
From cloud to cloud, down the long wind the dream 40 

Shrill'd ; but in going mingled with dim cries 
Far in the moonlit haze among the hills, 
As of some lonely city sack'd by night. 
When all is lost, and wife and child Avith wail 
Pass to new lords ; and Arthur woke and call'd : 
' Who spake ? A dream. O light upon the wind. 
Thine, Gawain, was the voice — are these dim cries 
Thine ? or doth all that haunts the waste and wild 
Mourn, knowing it will go along with me ? ' 

This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and spake : sc 

' O me, my King, let pass whatever will. 
Elves, and the harmless glamour of the field ; 
But in their stead thy name and glory cling 
To all high places like a golden cloud 
For ever : but as yet thou shalt not pass. 
Light was Gawain in life, and light in death 
Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man ; 



144 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

And care not thou for dreams from him, but rise — 
I hear the steps of Modred in the west, 
And with him many of thy people, and knights 
Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown 
Than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee. 
Right well in heart they know thee for the King. 
Arise, go forth and conquer as of old.' 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
' Far other is this battle in the west 
Whereto we move than when we strove in youth, 
And brake the petty kings, and fought with Rome, 
Or thrust the heathen from the Roman wall, 
And shook him thro' the north. Ill doom is mine 
To war against my people and my knights. 
The king who fights his people fights himself. 
And they my knights, who loved me once, the stroke 
That strikes them dead is as my death to me. 
Yet let us hence, and find or feel a way 
Thro' this blind haze which, ever since I saw 
One lying in the dust at Almesbury, 
Hath folded in the passes of the world.' 

Then rose the King and moved his host by night, 
And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by league. 
Back to the sunset bound of L3'^onnesse — 
A land of old upheaven from the abyss 
By fire, to sink into the abyss again ; 
Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt, 
And the long mountains ended in a coast 
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away 
The phantom circle of a moaning sea. 
There the pursuer could pursue no more, 
And he that fled no further fly the King ; 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. I45 

And there, that day when the great light of heaven 90 

Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year, 

On the waste sand by the waste sea they closed. 

Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight 

Like this last, dim, weird battle of the west. 

A death-white mist slept over sand and sea, 

Whereof the chill, to him who breathed it, drew 

Down with his blood, till all his heart was cold 

With formless fear ; and even on Arthur fell 

Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought. 

For friend and foe were shadows in the mist, 100 

And friend slew friend not knowing whom he slew ; 

And some had visions out of golden youth. 

And some beheld the faces of old ghosts 

Look in upon the battle ; and in the mist 

Was many a noble deed, many a base. 

And chance and craft and strength in single ilghts, 

And ever and anon with host to host 

Shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard mail hewn, 

Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the crash 

Of battle-axes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks no 

After the Christ, of those who falling down 

Look'd up for heaven, and only saw the mist ; 

And shouts of heathen and the traitor knights. 

Oaths, insult, filth, and monstrous blasphemies, 

Sweat, writhings, anguish, laboring of the lungs 

In that close mist, and cryings for the light. 

Moans of the dying, and voices of the dead. 

Last, as by some one deathbed after wail 
Of suffering, silence follows, or thro' death 
Or death-like swoon, thus over all that shore, 120 

Save for some whisper of the seething seas, 
A dead hush fell ; but when the dolorous day 



146 IDYLLS OF THE laNG. 

Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came 

A bitter wind, clear from the north, and blew 

The mist aside, and with that wind the tide 

Rose, and the pale King glanced across the field 

Of battle : but no man was moving there ; 

Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, 

Nor yet of heathen ; only the wan wave 

Brake in among dead faces, to and fro 

Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down 

Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, 

And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome, 

And rolling far along the gloomy shores 

The voice of days of old and days to be. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, 
And whiter than the mist that all day long 
Had held the field of battle was the King : 

' Hearest thou this great voice that shakes the world, 
And wastes the narrow realm whereon we move, 
And beats upon the faces of the dead, 
My dead, as tho' they had not died for me ? — 
O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fallen 
Confusion, till I know not what I am. 
Nor whence I am, nor whether I be king ; 
Behold, I seem but king among the dead.' >• 

Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere : ' My King ; 
King everywhere ! and so the dead have kings. 
There also will I worship thee as king. 
Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live 
Who love thee ; but who hates thee, he that brought 
The heathen back among us, yonder stands, 
Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house.' 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 1 47 

Then spake the King : ' My house hath been my doom. 
But call not thou this traitor of my house 
Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me. 
My house are rather they who sware my vows, 
Yea, even while they brake them, own'd me king. 
And well for thee, saying in my dark hour, 
When all the purport of my throne hath fail'd, 160 

That quick or dead thou holdest me for king. 
King am I, whatsoever be their cry ; 
And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see 
Yet, ere I pass.' And uttering this the King 
Made at the man : then Modred smote his liege 
Hard on that helm which many a heathen sword 
Had beaten thin ; while Arthur at one blow, 
Striking the last stroke with Excalibur, 
Slew him, and, all but slain himself, he fell. 

So all day long the noise of battle roll'd 170 

Among the mountains by the winter sea ; 
Until King Arthur's Table, man by man, 
Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their lord. 
King Arthur. Then, because his wound was deep, 
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, 
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, 
A broken chancel with a broken cross. 
That stood on a dark strait of barren land : 
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
Lay a great water, and the moon was full. iSo 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
' The sequel of to-day unsolders all 
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep 
They sleep — the men I loved. I think that we 



148 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Shall never more, at any future time, 

Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, 

Walking about the gardens and the halls 

Of Camelot, as in the days that were. 

I perish by this people which I made, — 

Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again 

To rule once more ; but, let what will be be, 

I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm 

That without help I cannot last till morn. 

Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, 

Which was my pride : for thou rememberest how 

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm 

Rose up from out the bosom of the lake. 

Clothed in white sarnite, mystic, wonderful, 

Holding the sword — and how I row'd across 

And took it, and have worn it, like a king ; 

And, wheresoever I am sung or told 

In aftertime, this also shall be known. 

But now delay not : take Excalibur, 

And fling him far into the middle mere ; 

Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word.' 

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere : 
' It is not meet. Sir King, to leave thee thus. 
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm — 
A little thing may harm a wounded man ; 
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full. 
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.' 

So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept, 
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, 
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men. 
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang 
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 1 49 

By zigzag paths and juts of pointed rock, 
Came on the sliining levels of the lake. 

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, 220 

And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, 
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth 
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt ; 
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks. 
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work 
Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long 
That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood. 
This way and that dividing the swift mind. 
In act to throw : but at the last it seem'd 
Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd 230 

There in the many-knotted water-flags. 
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. 
So strode he back slow to the wounded King. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
' Hast thou perform'd my mission which I gave t 
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? ' 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
' I heard the ripple washing in the reeds. 
And the wild water lapping on the crag.' 

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale : 240 

' Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name. 
Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd 
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight ; 
For surer sign had follow'd, either hand, 
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. 
This is a shameful thing for men to lie. 



I50 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again, 
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.' 

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time 
Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, 
Counting the dewy pebbles, fixt in thought ; 
But when he saw the wonder of the hilt. 
How curiously and strangely chased, he smote 
His palms together, and he cried aloud : 

' And if indeed I cast the brand away, 
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, 
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, 
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. 
What good should follow this, if this were done ? 
What harm, undone ? Deep harm to disobey. 
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. 
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand 
An act unprofitable, against himself ? 
The King is sick, and knows not what he does. 
What record or what relic of my lord 
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath 
And rumors of a doubt ? But were this kept. 
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, 
Some one might show it at a joust of arms. 
Saying : " King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, 
Wrought by the lonely Maiden of the Lake. 
Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 
Upon the hidden bases of the hills." 
So might some old man speak in the aftertime 
To all the people, winning reverence. 
But now much honor and much fame were lost' 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 151 

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, 
And hid Excalibur the second time, 
And so strode back slow to the wounded King. 280 

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : 

* What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? ' 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 

* I heard the water lapping on the crag, 
And the long ripple washing in the reeds.' 

To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath : 
' Ah miserable, and unkind, untrue, 
Unknightly, traitor-hearted ! Woe is me ! 
Authority forgets a dying king. 

Laid widow'd of the power in his eye 2go 

That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art. 
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights. 
In whom should meet the offices of all. 
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. 
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice. 
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence : 
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, 
I will arise and slay thee with my hands.' 300 

Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, 
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged 
Among the bulrush beds, and clutch'd the sword, 
And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great brand 
Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon, 
And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, 
Shot like a streamer of the northern morn. 



152 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 

Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
By night, with noises of the Northern Sea. 
So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur ; 
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
And lightly went the other to the King. 

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath : 
' Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. 
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard, or seen ? ' 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
' Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 
Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, 
Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men. 
So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him ; 
But when I look'd again, behold an arm, 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.' 

And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard : 
* My end draws nigh ; 't is time that I were gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight. 
And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear 
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.' 

So saying, from the pavement he half rose, 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, 
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes 



THE FASSING OF ARTHUR. I 53 

As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 

Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, 

And would have spoken, but he found not words ; 340 

Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, 

O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, 

And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. 

But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, 
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed 
When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, ' Quick, quick ! 
I fear it is too late, and I shall die.' 
But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, 
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd, 350 

Larger than human on the frozen hills. 
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry 
Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. 
Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves 
And barren chasms, and all to left and right 
The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based 
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang 
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — 
And on a sudden, lo, the level lake, 
And the long glories of the winter moon ! 360 

Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, 
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, 
Beneath them ; and descending they were ware 
That all the decks were dense with stately forms, 
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream — by these 
Three queens with crowns of gold : and from them rose 
A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, 
And, as it were one voice, an agony 
Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills 



154 IDYLLS OF THE I-CING. 

All night in a waste land, where no one comes, 
Or hath come, since the making of the world. 



Then murmur'd Arthur, ' Place me in the barge.' 
So to the barge they came. There those three queens 
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. 
But she that rose the tallest of them all 
And fairest laid his head upon her lap, 
And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands. 
And call'd him by his name, complaining loud, 
And dropping bitter tears against a brow 
Striped with dark blood : for all his face was white 
And colorless, and like the wither'd moon 
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ; 
And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops 
Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls — 
That made his forehead like a rising sun 
High from the dais-throne — were parch'd with dust, 
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, 
Mixt with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. 
So like a shatter'd column lay the King ; 
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest, 
From spur to plume a star of tournament. 
Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged 
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere : 
' Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ? 
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes ? 
For now I see the true old times are dead, 
When every morning brought a noble chance, 
And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
Such times have been not since the light that led 
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. I 55 

But now the whole Round Table is dissolved 
Which was an image of the mighty world, 
And I, the last, go forth companionless. 
And the days darken round me, and the years. 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' 

And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge : 
'The old order changeth, yielding place to new. 
And God fulfils himself in many ways, 

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 410 

Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? 
I have lived my life, and that which I have done 
May He within himself make pure ! but thou, 
If thou shouldst never see my face again, 
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice 
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
For what are men better than sheep or goats 
That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 420 

Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
But now farewell. I am going a long way 
With these thou seest — if indeed I go — 
For all my mind is clouded with a doubt — 
To the island-valley of Avilion ; 
W^here falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns 430 

And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, 
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.' 

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan 



156 IDYLLS OF THE Iy^ING. 

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
And on the mere the wailing died away. 

But when that moan had past for evermore, 
The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn 
Amazed him, and he groan'd, ' The King is gone.' 
And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme, 
' From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' 

Whereat he slowly turn'd and slowly clomb 
The last hard footstep of that iron crag. 
Thence mark'd the black hull moving yet, and cried : 
' He passes to be king among the dead. 
And after healing of his grievous wound 
He comes again ; but — if he come no more — 
O me, be yon dark queens in yon black boat. 
Who shriek'd and wail'd, the three whereat we gazed 
On that high day, when, clothed with living light, 
They stood before his throne in silence, friends 
Of Arthur, who should help him at his need ? ' 

Then from the dawn it seem'd there came, but faint 
As from beyond the limit of the world. 
Like the last echo born of a great cry, 
Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice 
Around a king returning from his wars. 

Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb 
Even to the highest he could climb, and saw, 
Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 1 57 

Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King, 
Down that long water opening on the deep 
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go 
From less to less and vanish into light. 
And the new sun rose bringing the new year. 



TO THE QUEEN. 

O LOYAL to the royal in thyself, 

And loyal to thy land, as this to thee — 

Bear witness, that rememberable day, 

When, pale as yet and fever-worn, the Prince 

Who scarce had pluck'd his flickering life again 

From halfway down the shadow of the grave 

Past with thee thro' thy people and their love. 

And London roll'd one tide of joy thro' all 

Her trebled millions, and loud leagues of man 

And welcome ! witness, too, the silent cry. 

The prayer of many a race and creed, and clime — 

Thunderless lightnings striking under sea 

From sunset and sunrise of all thy realm. 

And that true North, whereof we lately heard 

A strain to shame us, ' Keep you to yourselves ; 

So loyal is too costly! friends — your love 

Is but a burthen : loose the bond, and go.' 

Is this the tone of empire ? here the faith 

That made us rulers ? this, indeed, her voice 

And meaning whom the roar of Hougouraont 

Left mightiest of all peoples under heaven ? 

What shock has fool'd her since, that she should speak 

So feebly ? wealthier — wealthier — hour by hour ! 

The voice of Britain, or a sinking land, 

Some third-rate isle half-lost among her seas ? 

There rang her voice, when the full city peal'd 



TO THE QUEEN. 1 59 

Thee and thy Prince ! The loyal to their crown 

Are loyal to their own far sons, who love 

Our ocean-empire with her boundless homes 

For ever-broadening England, and her throne 30 

In our vast Orient, and one isle, one isle. 

That knows not her own greatness : if she knows 

And dreads it we are fallen. — But thou, my Queen, 

Not for itself, but thro' thy living love 

For one to whom I made it o'er his grave 

Sacred, accept this old imperfect tale. 

New-old, and shadowing Sense at war with Soul 

Rather than that gray king whose name, a ghost. 

Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from mountain peak, 

And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still ; or him ap 

Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, one 

Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time 

That hover'd between Avar and wantonness. 

And crownings and dethronements : take withal 

Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that Heaven 

Will blow the tempest in the distance back 

From thine and ours : for some are scared, who mark, 

Or wisely or unwisely, signs of storm. 

Waverings of every vane with every wind. 

And wordy trucklings to the transient hour, 50 

And fierce or careless looseners of the faith. 

And Softness breeding scorn of simple life. 

Or Cowardice, the child of lust for gold. 

Or Labor, with a groan and not a voice. 

Or Art with poisonous honey stolen from France, 

And that which knows, but careful for itself, 

And that which knows not, ruling that which knows 

To its own harm : the goal of this great world 

Lies be5^ond sight : yet — if our slowly-grown 

And crown'd Republic's crowning common-sense, 60 



l6o IDYLLS OF THE I^INC. 

That saved her many times, not fail — their fears 
Are morning shadows huger than the shapes 
That cast them, not those gloomier which forego 
The darkness of that battle in the west 
Where all of high and holy dies away. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

For the history of the Idylls, and critical matter upon the series of 
poems, see vol. i. pp. 179-190. Lancelot and Elaine was first published 
in 1859, when the title was simply Elaine. 

The outline of the story is from Malory (book xviii. chapters 7 to 21), 
whom the poet has followed very closely in many passages, as will be 
seen by the illustrative extracts given below. 

Littledale, in his comments upon the poem, remarks : " This is per- 
haps the most idyllic of the Idylls — and it is in some respects the most 
touching, as a picture of Elaine's love, ' that never found its mortal 
close,' and Lancelot's great and guilty passion, that ' marred his face 
and marked it ere his time.' Tennyson's power of drawing the char- 
acters of simple and lovable women is here seen to perfection. It is 
easy enough to represent a woman in whom the elements of good and 
evil are mingled, or in whom the latter predominate, — such a character 
is in no danger of being too neutral-tinted or monotonous ; but it is a 
far harder task to depict women like Enid and Elaine, fair and lovable 
beings, with all the charm of purity and goodness, but moving stead- 
fastly within the orbit of homely simple duties, and lacking the effect 
of deviation, the contrast of light and shade, that we see in the lives 
of less clear-natured women. In delineating these gracious creatures 
Tennyson stands unrivalled ; and in his rare sympathy with such types 
of womanly purity we may perceive the almost feminine delicacy of his 
mind." 

2. The lily maid of Astolat. " Elaine le Blank " (blanche, or white), 
as Malory calls her. See on 175 below. Astolat, he says, "is now in 
English called Gilford," that is, Guilford in Surrey. 

7. Fearing rust or sotlure. Knights usually kept their shields covered, 
to prevent rust or soilure, and doubtless many a fair damsel, like Elaine, 
wrought a cover for the shield of her favorite warrior. 

9. Blazon'd. Displayed in color. See vol. i. p. 197. 

12. Yellow-throated nestling. One of the many illustrations of the 
poet's minute observation of nature. 

34. For Arthur, etc. The 1859 ed. reads thus : — 

" For Arthur when none knew from whence he came. 
Long ere the people chose him for their king, 
Rovmg the trackless realms," etc. 



1 64 NOTES. 

35. Lyonnesse. This district is supposed to have stretched from 
Cornwall to the Scilly Islands, but is now submerged. 

45. And he that once was king, etc. Originally, " And one of these, 
the king, had on a crown," etc. 

53. The shingly scaur. A rocky slope covered with shingle, or loose 
pebbles. Cf. Enoch Arden, 733 : " Lest the harsh shingle should grate 
underfoot." 

59. Divinely. Providentially, as by divine guidance. 

67. Still. Always, at each of the eight jousts. See vol." i. p. 195. 

75. The place, etc. That is, London. 

78. Spake — foi' she had been sick — to Guinevere, etc. Cf. Malory 
(xviii. 8) : "So King Arthur made him ready to depart to those jousts, 
and would have had the queen with him ; but at that time she would 
not, she said, for she was sick and might not ride at that time. . . . And 
many deemed the queen would not be there because of Sir Launcelot 
du Lake, for Sir Launcelot would not ride with the King ; for he said 
that he was not whole of the wound the which Sir Mador had given 
him. Wherefore the King was heavy and passing wroth," etc. . 

80. ' Yea, lord,'' she said, ^ ye know it,' etc. The 1859 ed. has "you" 
iox ye, as in the next line and in S3; also in many other places in this 
Idyll which we shall not take the trouble to note. 

91. The tale of diamonds. The count, or full number, Cf. Macau- 
lay, Horatius, 83 : — 

" And now hath every city 

Sent up her tale of men."' 

See also Exodus, v. 8, etc. 

94. Lets me. Hinders me. Cf. Ha7nlet, i. 4. 85 : "I '11 make a ghost 
of him that lets me," etc. 

97. To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, etc. Cf. Malory (xviii. 8) : 
" Sir Launcelot, ye are greatly to blame, thus to hold you behind my 
lord ; what trow ye, what will your enemies and mine say and deem ? 
nought else but see how Sir Launcelot holdeth him ever behind the 
king and so doth the queen, for that they would be together: and 
thus will they say, said the queen to Launcelot, have ye no doubt 
thereof." 

106. The myriad cricket. Cf. Enoch Arden, 579 : " The myriad 
shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl." 

118. Devoir. Duty (French). Cf. M.2,r\o^e, Edward 11. yr. 2: "To 
do your highness service and devoir," etc. 

132. He is all fault, etc. Cf. Mated, i. 2: "Faultily faultless, icily 
regular," etc. 

134. The low Sim. That is, the rising or the setting sun. 

168. Bletv the gateway horn. Originally, " wound " for blew. 

175. And close behind them, etc. Cf. Malory (xviii. 9): " This old 
baron had a daughter that time that was called that time the fair maid 
of Astolat. And ever she beheld Sir Launcelot wonderfully. And, as 
the book saith, she cast such a love unto Sir Launcelot that she could 
never withdraw her love, wherefore she died ; and her name was Elaine 
le Blank. So thus as she came to and fro, she was so hot in her love 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 1 65 

that slie besought Sir Launcelot to wear upon him at the justs a token 
of hers. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, and if I grant you that, ye 
may say I do more for your love than ever I did for lady or damsel. 
Then he remembered him that he would go to the justs disguised, and 
for because he had never afore that time borne no manner of token of 
no damsel, then he bethought him that he would bear one of her, that 
none of his blood thereby might know him. And then he said, Fair 
maiden, I will grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet, and 
therefore what it is shew it me. Sir, she said, it is a red sleeve of mine, 
of scarlet well embroidered with great pearls. And so she brought it 
him. So Sir Launcelot received it and said, Never did I erst so much 
for no damsel. And then Sir Launcelot betook the fair maiden his 
shield in keeping, and prayed her to keep that until that he came again. 
And so that night he had merry rest and great cheer. For ever the 
damsel Elaine was about Sir Launcelot, all the while she might be 
suffered." 

180. By what name, etc.- This has been compared with Virgil, 
yEneid, xii. 235 : " Succedet fama, vivusque per ora feretur." 
251. And drove him into wastes, etc. Cf. Luke, viii. 29. 
253. Marr'd as he was, etc. As Littledale remarks, these words con- 
tain a reminiscence of Sir Ector's words (Malory, xxi. 13), when Launce- 
lot is dead: "Ah, Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all Christian 
knights ; and now I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there 
thou liest, that thou were never matched of earthly knight's hand; and 
thou were the courtiest knight that ever bare shield ; and thou were the 
truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse ; and thou were the 
truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were 
the kindest man that ever strake with sword ; and thou were the goodli- 
est person ever came among press of knights ; and thou was the meekest 
man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies ; and thou were 
the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest." 

279. On Bado7i Hill. Green, in his Short History of the English 
People, says : " It is certain that a victory of the Britons at Mount 
Badon in the year 520 checked the progress of the West Saxons, and 
was followed by a long pause in their advance." The locality is sup- 
posed to be Badbury Hill in Dorsetshire, but like the other places men- 
tioned, has been variously identified by different authorities. Indeed, 
this battle is the only one of those referred to here which is not re- 
garded as mythical. 

288. The four loitd battles. Originally, " wild battles." 
The list of the twelve great battles, as Littledale notes, is first found 
in Nennius, whom Tennyson follows. Compare the translation of 
Nennius in Bohn's Six Chronicles, p. 408 : " Then it was that the mag- 
nanimous Arthur, with all the kings and mihtary force of Britain, 
fought against the Saxons. And though there were many more noble 
than himself, yet he was twelve times chosen their commander, and was 
as often conqueror. The first battle in which he was engaged, was at 
the mouth of the river Gleni. The second, third, fourth, and fifth, were 
on another river, by the Britons called Duglas, in the region Linius. 
The sixth, on the river Bassas. The seventh, in the wood Celidon, which 



1 66 NOTES. 

the Britons call Cat Coit Celidon. The eighth was near Gurnion Castle, 
where Arthur bore the image of the Holy Virgin, mother of God, upon 
his shoulders, and through the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
holy Mary, put the Saxons to flight, and pursued them the whole day 
with great slaughter. The ninth was at the City of Legion, which is 
called Caer Leon. The tenth was on the banks of the river Trat Treu- 
roit. The eleventh was on the mountain Breguoin, which we call Cat 
Bregion. The twelfth was a most severe contest, when Arthur pene- 
trated to the hill of Badon. In this engagement, nine hundred and forty 
fell by his hand alone, no one but the Lord affording him assistance. 
In all these engagements the Britons were successful. For no strength 
can avail against the will of the Almighty." 

From this account, as Littledale suggests, it would seem as if Arthur 
had borne a sacred image on his shoulder during the battle of Castle 
Gurnion. Geoffrey of Monmouth says that the picture of the blessed 
Mary was on Arthur's shield Priwen, in order to put him in mind of 
her, and this is the version generally found in the romances, and fol- 
lowed even by Wordsworth [Ecclesiastical Sotmets, i. lo) : — 

" Arthur, bearing through the stormy field 
The Virgin sculptured on his Christian shield." 

Tennyson seems to have been thinking of the famous " Russian emer- 
ald," said to have been sent originally by Pilate to Tiberius. It is sup- 
posed to have the head of Christ carved upon it, but Mr. King {The 
Gnostics, p. 146) gives reasons for doubting this. 

297. The wild White Horse. The emblem of the Saxons. Cf. The 
Holy Grail, 311, and Guinevere, 15. 

314. The fire of God. Cf. The Coming of Arthur, 127 : — 



' ' Sir and my liege,' he cried, ' the fire of God 
Descends upon thee in the battle-field.' " 



325. To make him cheer. To show him hospitality. 

338. Till rathe she rose. Rathe, of which the comparative is rather, 
means early. Cf. In Memoriam, ex. i : " The men of rathe and riper 
years ; " and Milton, Lycidas, 142 : " Bring the rathe primrose that for- 
saken dies." Spenser {Shepherd's Calendar, Feb.) has the comparative 
in its original sense : " the rather lambes." 

392. Paused by the gateway, standing near the shield. Originally, 
" Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield." 

409. A noise of fallifig showers. For noise in the archaic sense of a 
pleasing sound or music, cf. The Tempest, iii. 2. 144 : — 

" the isle is full of noises, 
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not ; " 

Milton, Hym7i ojt the Nativity, 97 : " Answering the stringed noise ; " 
Spenser, E. Q. i. 12. 39: "During which time there was an heavenly 
noise ; " and Coleridge, Ancient Mariner : — 

" It ceased ; yet still the sails made on 
A pleasant noise till noon — 
A noise as of a hidden brook 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 1 6/ 

In the leafy month of June, 
That to the sleeping woods all night 
Singeth a quiet tune." 

431. Samite. Heavy silk. See vol. i. p. 192. 

446. Now crescent. Cf. 1389, below. 

453. Held the lists. Awaited the attack, defended themselves. 

474. A fury seized them all. Originally, " seized on them." 

Cf. Malory (xviii. 11) : " So these nine knights of Sir Launcelot's kin 
thrust in mightily, for they were all noble knights. And they, of great 
hate and despite that they had unto him, thought to rebuke that noble 
knight Sir Launcelot, and Sir Lavaine, for they knew them not. And so 
they came hurtling together, and smote down many knights of North- 
galis and of Northumberland. And when Sir Launcelot saw them fare 
so, he gat a spear in his hand, and there encountered with him all at 
once Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel, and all they three smote him 
at once with their spears. And with force of themselves they smote Sir 
Launcelot's horse to the earth. And by misfortune Sir Bors smote Sir 
Launcelot through the shield into the side, and the spear brake, and the 
head left still in his side. When Sir Lavaine saw his master lie on the 
ground, he ran to the king of Scots, and smote him to the earth, and 
by great force he took his horse and brought him to Sir Launcelot, and 
maugre them all he made him to mount upon that horse. And then 
Launcelot gat a spear in his hand, and there he smote Sir Bors horse 
and man to the earth, in the same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir 
Lionel, and Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Blamor de Ganis. And then 
Sir Launcelot drew his sword, for he felt himself so sore and hurt that 
he wend there to have had his death. And then he smote Sir Bleoberis 
such a buffet on the helmet that he fell down to the earth in a swoon. 
And in the same wise he served Sir Aliduke and Sir Gahhud. And Sir 
Lavaine smote down Sir Bellangere, that was the son of Alisander le 
Orphelin. And by this was Sir Bors horsed, and then he came with 
Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and all they three smote with swords upon 
Sir Launcelot's helmet. And when he felt their buffets, and his wound 
the which was so grievous, then he thought to do what he might while 
he might endure ; and then he gave Sir Bors such a buffet that he made 
him bow his head passing low, and therewithal he rased off his helm, 
and might have slain him, and so pulled him down. And in the same 
wise he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel. For, as the book saith, he 
might have slain them, but when he saw their visages his heart might 
not serve him thereto, but left them there. 

" And then afterward he hurled in the thickest press of them all, and 
did there the marvellousest deeds of arms that ever man saw or heard 
speak of ; and ever Sir Lavaine the good knight with him. And there 
Sir Launcelot with his sword smote and pulled down, as the French 
book maketh mention, more than thirty knights, and the most party 
were of the Table Round. And Sir Lavaine did full well that day, for 
he smote down ten knights of the Table Round." 

498. Then the tru7npets blew. Originally, " heralds " for trumpets. 

502. Diamond me No diamonds ! Cf. Richard II. ii. 3. Z"] : "Grace 
me no grace, nor uncle me no uncles ; " Romeo and Juiiet, iii. 5. 1 53 : 



1 68 NOTES. 

" Thank me no thanks, nor proud me no prouds ; " Dryden, The Wild 
Gallant, ii. 2 : " Madam me no madam," etc. 

509. Draw the lance-head. Cf. Malory (xviii. 2) : " O gentle knight 
Sir Lavaine, help me that this truncheon were out of my side, for it 
sticketh so sore that it nigh slayeth me. O mine own lord, said Sir 
Lavaine, I would fain do that might please you, but I dread me sore, 
and I draw out the truncheon, that ye shall be in peril of death. I 
charge you, said Sir Launcelot, as ye love me draw it out. And there- 
withal he descended from his horse, and right so did Sir Lavaine, and 
forthwith Sir Lavaine drew the truncheon out of his side. And he gave 
a great shriek, and a marvellous grisly groan, and his blood brast out 
nigh a pint at once, that at last he sank down, and so swooned pale 
and deadly." 

513. And Sir Lancelot gave, etc. Originally, "and that other gave," 
etc. 

534. He must not pass, etc. The 1859 ed. reads : — 

" He must not pass uncared for. Gawain, arise, 
My nephew, and ride forth and find the knight." 

543. Ourselves will send it after. In The Princess the poet changed 
the ourselves of the early editions to ourself except in one instance (see 
our edition, p. 154) where it was accidentally retained. 

Rise and take. Originally, " Wherefore take," etc. 

545. Where he is. Originally, " what he is." 

555. Arid Gareth, a good knight. Originally, " Lamorack " for Ga- 
reth ; and in the next line, " of a crafty house " for and the child of Lot. 

567. Tarriance. Cf. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 7. 90: "I 
am impatient of my tarriance." 

583. Our true Arthur, etc. It was the Queen, not Lancelot, who 
had said this. Cf. 151, aljove. 

592. So fine a fear. That is, over-sensitive. There is a touch of sar- 
casm in the expression. 

595. /// news this I Originally, " these " for this. 

605. Fast to her chamber. Originally, " Moved to her chamber." 

626. The victor, but had ridden, etc. The 1859 ed. reads thus : — 

" The victor that had ridden wildly round, 
To seek him, and was wearied of the search. 
To whom the Lord of Astolat, ' Bide with us, 
And ride no longer wildly, nolDle Prince ! ' " 

653. The hern we slipt her at. Originally, " him " for her, which was 
a slip, as the male bird was seldom used in hawking, the female being 
larger and stronger. 

658. A)id when the shield was brought, etc. Cf. Malory (xviii. 14) : 
" Ah, mercy, said Sir Gawaine, now is my heart more heavier than ever 
it was tofore. Why.? said Elaine. For I have great cause, said Sir 
Gawaine ; is that knight that owneth this shield your love .? Yea truly, 
said she, my love he is, God would I were his love. Truly, said Sir 
Gawaine, fair damsel, ye have right, for, and he be your love, ye love 
the most honourable knight of the world, and the man of most worship. 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 1 69 

So me thought ever, said the damsel, for never, or that time, for no ■ 
knight that ever I saw loved I never none erst. God grant, said Sir 
Gawaine, that either of you may rejoice other, but that is in a great adven- 
ture. But truly, said Sir Gawaine unto the damsel, ye may say ye have 
a fair grace, for why, I have known that noble knight this four and 
twenty year, and never or that day I nor none other knight, I dare 
make it good, saw nor heard say that ever he bare token or sign of 
no lady, gentlewoman, nor maiden, at no justs nor tournament. And 
therefore, fair maiden, said Sir Gawaine, ye are much beholden to him 
to give him thanks. But I dread me, said Sir Gawaine, that ye shall 
never see him in this world, and that is great pity that ever was of 
earthly knight. Alas, said she, how may this be ? Is he slain ? I say 
not so, said Sir Gawaine, but wit ye well, he is grievously wounded, by 
all manner of signs, and by men's sight more likely to be dead then to 
be on live ; and wit ye well he is the noble knight Sir Launcelot, for 
by this shield I know him. Alas, said the fair maiden of Astolat, how 
may this be, and what was his hurt .'' Truly, said Sir Gawaine, the man 
in the world that loved him best hurt him so, and I dare say, said Sir 
Gawaine, and that knight that hurt him knew the very certainty that 
he had hurt Sir Launcelot, it would be the most sorrow that ever came 
to his heart. Now, fair father, said then Elaine, I require you give me 
leave to ride and to seek him, or else I wot well I shall go out of my 
mind, for I shall never stint till that I find him and my brother Sir 
Lavaine. Do as it liketh7ou, said her father, for me right sore repent- 
eth of the hurt of that noble knight. Right so the maid made her 
ready, and before Sir Gawaine making great dole. Then on the morn 
Sir Gawaine came to king Arthur, and told him how he had found Sir 
Launcelot's shield in the keeping of the fair maiden of Astolat. All 
that knew I aforehand, said king Arthur, and that caused me I would 
not suffer you to have ado at the great justs : for I espied, said king Ar- 
thur, when he came in till his lodging, full late in the evening in Astolat. 
But marvel have I, said Arthur, that ever he would bear any sign of any 
damsel : for, or [before] now, I never heard say nor knew that ever he 
bare any token of none earthly woman. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, 
the fair maiden of Astolat loveth him marvellously well ; what it mean- 
eth I cannot say ; and she is ridden after to seek him. So the king and 
all came to London, and there Sir Gawaine openly disclosed to all the 
court that it was Sir Launcelot that justed best." 

674. / know there is no7ie other I can love. Originally, " Methinks 
there is," etc. 

683. Nay — like enow. Originally, " May it be so ? " 
728. Marr\l her friend's aim, etc. Thwarted her purpose by receiv- 
ing the intelligence calmly. Aim was originally " point." 
798. His own far blood. That is, distant relatives. 
806. Wherein he slept. Originally, "in which he slept." 
810. Theti she that sazv him lying, etc. Cf. Malory (xviii. 15) : " And 
when she saw him lie so sick and pale in his bed, she might not speak, 
but suddenly she fell to the earth down suddenly in a swoon, and there 
she lay a great while. And when she was relieved she sighed, and said. 
My lord Sir Launcelot, alas, why be ye in this plight ? and then she 



I/O NOTES. 

swooned again. And then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Lavaine to take 
her up, — And bring her to me. And when she came to herself, Sir 
Launcelot kissed her, and said. Fair maiden, why fare ye thus? Ye 
put me to pain ; wherefore make ye no more such cheer, for, and ye 
be come to comfort me, ye be right welcome, and of this little hurt 
that I have, I shall be right hastily whole, by the grace of God. But 
I marvel, said Sir Launcelot, who told you my name." 
826. Your ride hath -wearied you. Originally, " has wearied you." 
836. He not regarded. For the position of the negative, cf. Geraint 
and Enid, 151 : " you that not obey me ; " and see note in vol. i. p. 209. 

839. The weirdly-sculptured gates. Originally, " wildly-sculptured ; " 
perhaps a misprint. 

877. The bright image. Originally, "the sweet image." 
905. The victim's flowers before he fall. The allusion is to an animal 
crowned with flowers for sacrifice. 

920. Seeing I go to-day. Originally, " Seeing I must go to-day." 
924. Then suddenly and passiojiately she spoke, etc. Cf. Malory 
(xviii. 19) : " My lord Sir Launcelot, now I see ye will depart, now, fair 
knight and courteous knight, have mercy upon me, and suffer me not 
to die for thy love. What would ye that I did ? said Sir Launcelot. I 
would have you to my husband, said Elaine. Fair damsel, I thank you, 
said Sir Launcelot, but truly, said he, I cast me never to be wedded 
man. Then, fair knight, said she, will ye be my love ? Jesu defend 
me, said Sir Launcelot, for then I rewarded to your father and your 
brother full evil for their great goodness. Alas, said she, then must I 
die for your love. Ye shall not so, said Sir Launcelot, for wit ye well, 
fair maiden, I might have been married and I had would, but I never 
applied me to be married yet. But because, fair damsel, that ye love 
me as ye say ye do, I will, for your good will and kindness, shew you 
some goodness, and that is this ; that wheresoever ye will beset your 
heart upon some good knight that will wed you, I shall give you to- 
gether a thousand pound yearly, to you and to your heirs. Thus much 
will I give you, fair maiden, for your kindness, and always while I live 
to be your own knight. Of all this, said the maiden, I will none, for, 
but if ye will wed me, or else be my lover, wit you well, Sir Launcelot, 
my good days are done. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, of these two 
things ye must pardon me. Then she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in 
a swoon." 

Stopford Brooke remarks here : " She rises to the very verge of in- 
nocent maidenhness in passionate love, but she does not go over the 
verge. And to be on the verge, and not to pass beyond it, is the very 
peak of innocent girlhood when seized by overmastering love. It was 
as difficult to represent Elaine as to represent Juliet ; and Tennyson has 
succeeded well where Shakespeare has succeeded beautifully. It is 
great praise, but it is well deserved." 

997. And in those days she made a little song. " And the song, how 
simply wrought it is, and yet how subtly — with the subtlety of long 
passion's interwoven thought ! It is almost like a piece out of the Son- 
nets of Shakespeare, full of his to-and-fro play with words that are 
thoughts ; with the same kind of all-pervading emotion in the lines ; the 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. I /I 

same truth to the situation and the character of the singer; and with 
Tennyson's deep-seated waters of love — which too rarely come to the 
surface — welling upwards in it " (Stopford Brooke). 

1015. Hark the phantom of the house, etc. As Littledale remarks, 
this phantom is described in Croker's stories of the Banshee {Fairy 
Legends, -piges 103, 119). Compare Scoifs Jiosabelle, and see Baring- 
Gould's Curious Myths (2d series, pages 215, 225). For a remarkable 
account of such a phantom, compare quotation from the manuscript 
Memoirs of Lady Fanshaw in Dyer's English Folk-lore : " Her husband, 
Sir Richard, and she chanced, during their abode in Ireland, to visit a 
friend, who resided in his ancient baronial castle, surrounded with a 
moat. At midnight she was awakened by a ghastly and supernatural 
scream, and looking out of bed, beheld, by the moonlight, a female face 
and part of the form, hovering near the window. The face was that of 
a young and rather handsome woman, but pale ; and the hair, which 
was reddish, was loose and dishevelled. This apparition continued to 
exhibit itself for some time, and then vanished with two shrieks, similar 
to that which had first excited Lady Fanshaw's attention. In the morn- 
ing, with infinite terror, she communicated to her host what had hap- 
pened, and found him prepared not only to credit, but to account for what 
had happened. ' A near relation of my family,' said he, ' expired last 
night in this castle. Before such an event happens in this family and 
castle, the female spectre whom you have seen is always visible. She is 
believed to be the spirit of a woman of inferior rank, whom one of my 
ancestors degraded himself by marrying, and whom afterwards, to expi- 
ate the dishonor done to his family, he caused to be drowned in the 
castle moat.' " 

1048. Mtise at me. Wonder at me. Ci. Macbeth, in. ^.?>^: " Do not 
muse at me, my most worthy friends ; " King John, iii. i. 317 : " I muse 
your majesty doth seem so cold," etc. 

1066. To whom the gentle sister made reply. Originally, " To which," 
etc. 

1092. The ghostly man. The priest. Cf. Romeo and Juliet, iii. 3. 49 : 
" Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, etc." 

1093. Shrive nie clean. Give me absolution after confession. 

Cf. Malory (xviii. 19) : " Now speak we of the fair maiden of Astolat, 
that made such sorrow day and night, that she never slept, eat, nor 
drank ; and ever she made her complaint unto Sir Launcelot. So when 
she had thus endured a ten days, that she feebled so that she must 
needs pass out of this world, then she shrived her clean, and received 
her Creator. And ever she complained still upon Sir Launcelot. Then 
her ghostly father bade her leave such thoughts. Then she said. Why 
should I leave such thoughts ? am I not an earthly woman ? and all the 
while the breath is in my body I may complain me, for my belief is I 
do none offence though I love an earthly man, and I take God to my 
record I never loved none but Sir Launcelot du Lake, nor never shall ; 
and a pure maiden I am for him and for all other. And since it is the 
sufferance of God that I shall die for the love of so noble a knight, I 
beseech the High Father of heaven to have mercy upon my soul, and 
upon mine innumerable pains that I suffered may be allegiance of part 



1/2 NOTES. 

of my sins. For sweet Lord Jesu, said the fair maiden, I take thee to 
record, on thee I was never great offender against thy laws, but that I 
loved this noble knight Sir Launcelot out of measure, and of myself, 
good Lord, I might not withstand the fervent love wherefore I have my 
death. And then she called her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir 
Tirre, and heartily she prayed her father that her brother might write 
a letter like as she did endite it ; and so her father granted her. And 
when the letter was written word by word like as she devised, then she 
prayed her father that she might be watched until she were dead, — 
And while my body is hot, let this letter be put in my right hand, and 
my hand bound fast with the letter until that I be cold, and let me be 
put in a fair bed, with all the richest clothes that I have about me, and 
so let my bed, and all my richest clothes, be laid with me in a chariot 
unto the next place where Thames is, and there let me be put within a 
barget, and but one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, 
and that my barget be covered with black samite, over and over. Thus, 
father, I beseech you, let it be done. So her father granted it her faith- 
fully, all things should be done like as she had devised. Then her 
father and her brother made great dole, for, when this was done, anon 
she died. And so when she was dead, the corpse, and the bed, all was 
led the next way unto Thames, and there a man, and the corpse, and all, 
were put into Thames, and so the man steered the barget unto West- 
minster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro or any espied it." 

1 147. Oar'd by the dumb.. Originally, " Steer'd by the dumb." 

1167. The shadow of some piece. Originally, " of a piece." 

1 170. Summer side. Southern side. 

1 178. Tawnier than her cygnefs. The down of the cygnet, or young 
swan, is of a dusky hue. 

1230. In half disdain. Originally, "half disgust." 

1264. Most noble lord, etc. Cf. Malory (xviii. 20) : " And this was 
the intent of the letter : — Most noble knight. Sir Launcelot, now hath 
death made us two at debate for your love ; I was your lover, that men 
called the fair maiden of Astolat ; therefore unto all ladies I make my 
moan ; yet pray for my soul, and bury me at the least, and offer ye my 
mass-penny. This is my last request. And a clean maiden I died, I 
take God to witness. Pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot, as thou art peer- 
less. — This was all the substance in the letter. And when it was read 
the king, the queen, and all the knights wept for pity of the doleful 
complaints. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for. And when he was 
come, king Arthur made the letter to be read to him ; and when Sir 
Launcelot heard it word by word, he said. My lord Arthur, wit ye well I 
am right heavy of the death of this fair damsel. God knoweth I was 
never causer of her death by my willing, and that will I report me to 
her own brother ; here he is. Sir Lavaine. I will not say nay, said 
Sir Launcelot, but that she was both fair and good, and much I was 
beholden unto her, but she loved me out of measure. Ye might have 
shewed her, said the queen, some bounty and gentleness, that might 
have preserved her life. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, she would none 
other way be answered, but that she would be my wife, or else my love, 
and of these two I would not' grant her ; but I proffered her, for her 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 1/3 

good love that she shewed me, a thousand pound yearly to her and to 
her heirs, and to wed any manner knight that she could find best to love 
in her heart. For, madam, said Sir Launcelot, I love not to be con- 
strained to love ; for love must arise of the heart, and not by no con- 
straint. That is truth, said the king, and many knights : love is free in 
himself, and never will be bounden ; for where he is bounden he loseth 
himself. Then said the king unto Sir Launcelot, It will be your worship 
that ye oversee that she be interred worshipfuUy. Sir, said Sir Launce- 
lot, that shall be done as I can best devise. And so many knights 
went thither to behold that fair maiden. And so upon the morn she 
was interred richly, and Sir Launcelot offered her mass-penny, and all 
the knights of the Table Round that were there at that time offered with 
Sir Launcelot. And then the poor man went again with the barget. 
Then the queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and prayed him of mercy, for 
why she had been wroth with him causeless. This is not the first time, 
said Sir Launcelot, that ye have been displeased with me causeless; 
but, madam, ever I must suffer you, but what sorrow I endure I take 
no force." 

1313. Joyance. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. iii. 12. 18 : " She chearfull, fresh, 
and full of joyaunce glad." 

1316. To thy worship. To thy honor. So worshipfuUy, in 1318, is 
honorably. Both are from Malory (see extract above). 

1319. That shrine, etc. Westminster Abbey, or the ancient church 
on the same site. Cf. the quotation from Malory, in note on 1093 
above. 

1343. But Arthur, loho beheld, etc. The 1859 ed. reads : — 

" But Artliur, who beheld his clouded brows, 
Approach'd him, and with full affection flung 
One arm about his neck, and spake and said, 
' Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I have 
Most love and most afiSance,' •' etc. 

1346. Affia7ice. Trust, confidence. Cf. Henry V.\\. 2. 127 : — 

" O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
The sweetness of affiance ! " 

1354. Seeing the homeless trouble in thine eyes. For this line the 1859 
ed. has : " For the wild people say wild things of thee." 

1393. La7icelot, whom .the Lady of the Lake, etc. The 1859 ed. 
reads : — 

" Lancelot, whom the Lady of the lake [sic'i 
Stole from his mother — as the story runs — 
She chanted snatches of mysterious song," etc. 

141 8. Not knowing he should die a holy man. Malory (xxi. 9, 10) tells 
" how Sir Launcelot departed to seek the queen Guenever, and how he 
found her at Almesbury," and how she said to him : " Sir Launcelot, I 
require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was be- 
twixt us, that thou never see me more in the visage ; and I command 
thee on God's behalf, that thou forsake my company, and to thy king- 
dom thou turn again and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For 



174 NOTES. 

as well as I have loved thee, mhie heart will not serve me to see thee ; 
for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed." 
He tells her that he had hoped to have her go with him to his own 
realm ; but since she will not do this, he says to her : " I insure you 
faithfully I will ever take me to penance, and pray while my life lasteth, 
if that I may find any hermit either grey or white that will receive me. 
Wherefore, madam, I pray you kiss me, and never no more. Nay, said 
the queen, that shall I never do, but abstain you from such works. And 
they departed. But there never was so hard an hearted man, but he 
would have wept to see the dolour that they made. For there was 
lamentation as they Jiad been stung with spears, and many times they 
swooned. And the ladies bare the queen to her chamber, and Sir 
Launcelot awoke, and went and took his horse, and rode all that day 
and all that night in a forest, weeping. And at the last he was ware of 
an hermitage and a chapel stood betwixt two cliffs, and then he heard 
a little bell ring to mass, and thither he rode and alight, and tied his 
horse to the gate, and heard mass. And he that sang mass was the 
bishop of Canterbury. Both the bishop and Sir Bedivere knew Sir 
Launcelot, and they spake together after mass. But when Sir Bedi- 
vere had told his tale all whole. Sir Launcelot's heart almost brast for 
sorrow, and Sir Launcelot threw his arms abroad, and said, Alas, who 
may trust this world I And then he kneeled down on his knees, and 
prayed the bishop to shrive him and assoil him. And then he besought 
the bishop that he might be his brother. Then the bishop said, I will 
gladly : and there he put an habit upon Sir Launcelot, and there he 
served God day and night with prayers and fastings." Later he learns 
of the death of Guinevere at Almesbury ; and Malory (xxi. 12) says: 
" Then Sir Launcelot never after eat but little meat, nor drank, till he 
was dead ; for then he sickened more and more, and dried and dwined 
away ; for the bishop nor none of his fellows might not make him to 
eat, and little he drank, that he was waxen by a cubit shorter than he 
was, that the people could not know him ; for evermore day and night 
he prayed, but sometime he slumbered a broken sleep, and ever he was 
lying groveling on the tomb of king Arthur and queen Guenever. And 
there was no comfort that the bishop, nor Sir Bors, nor none of his fel- 
lows could make him, it availed not. So within six weeks after. Sir 
Launcelot fell sick, and lay in his bed ; and then he sent for the bishop 
that there was hermit, and all his true fellows. Then Sir Launcelot 
said with dreary voice. Sir bishop, I pray you give to me all my rights 
that longeth to a christian man. It shall not need you, said the hermit 
and all his fellows, it is but heaviness of your blood : ye shall be well 
amended by the grace of God to-morn. My fair lords, said Sir Launce- 
lot, wit you well, my careful body will into the earth, I have warning 
more then I now will say, therefore give me my rights. So when he was 
houseled and eneled,i and had all that a christian man ought to have, 
he prayed the bishop that his fellows might bear his body to Joyous 
Gard. Some men say it was Anwick, and some men say it was Bam- 
borow. Howbeit, said Sir Launcelot, me repenteth sore, but I made 

■■ That is, had received the eucharist and extreme unction. Cf. Hamlet, i. 5. 77 : 
" Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd. "' 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 1 75 

mine avow sometime tliat in Joyous Gard I would be buried, and because 
of breaking of mine avow, I pray you all lead me thither. Then there 
was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows." The next 
morning they "found him stark dead, and he lay as he had smiled, and 
the sweetest savour about him that ever they felt." His body was put 
" in the same horse bier that queen Guenever was laid in before that 
she was buried ; and so the bishop and they altogether went with the 
corpse of Sir Launcelot daily till they came to Joyous Gard," where 
they " laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and read many psalters 
and prayers over him and about him." 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 

This Idyll was first printed, with other poems, in 1869. The changes 
in subsequent editions were few and slight. 

The story is found in Malory, books xi. to -^V\\., preceding \.\\& story of 
Elaine in xviii. The poet follows his original closely here and there, 
but omits much that Malory gives and often varies from him. 

This Idyll " marks the turn of the tide of Arthur's fortunes ; the suc- 
ceeding poems display the ebbing of his influence and authority still 
further, until that last scene, when all seems lost, and he departs for a 
time from a world unripe for regeneration." 

15. That puffed the swaying branches into smoke. For another allu- 
sion to the abundant pollen of the yew, scattered into smoke by the 
wind, see In Memoriatn, xxxix. : — 

" Old warder of these buried bones, 

And answering now my random stroke 

With fruitful cloud and living smoke, 

Dark yew, that graspest at the stones," etc. 

21. Beyond the pale. The limits of the monastery. Cf. Milton, // 
Fenseroso, 176: "To walk the studious cloister's pale," where some 
editors prefer to read " cloisters pale," making pale an adjective. 

48. 1 he blessed land of Aromat. " Aromat — a name suggestive of 
Sabeean spicery and sweet Eastern balms — is used for Arimathea, a 
town in Palestine, probably the modern Ramleh, and the home of the 
'honorable counsellor, which also waited for the kingdom of God,' 
Joseph, who placed Christ in the sepulchre that had been made for 
himself. The medieval legend added that Joseph had received in the 
Grail the blood that flowed froin the Saviour's side" (Littledale). 

49. When the dead, etc. See Matthew, xxvii. 50 fol.' 

51. Arimathcean Joseph. Cf. Balin arid Balan, 99, 358. 

There is a variety of hawthorn which puts forth leaves and flowers 
about the time of Christmas. It is said to have originated at Glas- 
tonbury Abbey, and the original thorn was believed to have been the 
staff with which Joseph of Arimathea aided his steps on his wanderings 
from the Holy Land to Glastonbury, where he is said to have founded 
the celebrated Abbey. The first church, according to the legend, was 
"built of wattles" and interwoven twigs. In A. D. 439 St. Patrick is 



176 NOTES. 

said to have visited tlie place, and to liave founded the monastery, of 
which he became the abbot. In 542 King Arthur was buried liere. 
Tire abbey was several times repaired and rebuilt before the reign of 
Henry II., when it was destroyed by fire, and the large and splendid 
structure, the ruins of which still remain, was erected. It was the 
wealthiest abbey in England, except Westminster. 

61. Arviragtis. According to the mythical history, he was king of 
the Britons from the time of the invasion of Claudius to the reign of 
Vespasian. In Shakespeare's Cymbcline he is one of the sons of the 
king. 

80. Atid the strafige sojcnd, etc. Cf. Guinevere, df^T,io\. 

88. A hundred winters old. Cf. The Palace of Art, 139 : " A hun- 
dred winters snovv'd upon his breast." 

135. Galahad. Cf. Tennyson's poem of Sir Galahad. In the Morte 
Darthur (xhi. 3), he is described as "in red arms." 

138. /;/ so young youth. The romances make him only fifteen at the 
time. 

149. But she, the wan siveet maiden, shore away, etc. Cf. Malory 
(xvii. 7) : " Fair sir, said Percivale's sister, dismay you not, for by the 
leave of God I shall let make a girdle to the sword, such one as shall 
belong thereto. And then she opened a box, and took out girdles 
which were seemly wrought with golden threads, and upon that were 
set full precious stones, and a rich buckle of gold. Lo lords, said she, 
here is a girdle that ought to be set about the sword. And wit ye well 
the greatest part of this girdle was made of my hair, which I loved well 
while that I was a woman of the world. But as soon as I wist that this 
adventure was ordained me, I clipped off my hair and made this girdle 
in the name of God. Ye be welh found, said Sir Bors, for certes you 
have put us out of great pain, wherein we should have entered ne had 
your tidings been. Then went the gentlewoman and set it on the girdle 
of the sword. Now, said the fellowship, what is the name of the sword, 
and what shall we call it ? Truly, said she, the name of the sword is, 
the sword with the strange girdles, and the sheath, mover of blood ; for 
no man that hath blood in him shall never see the one part of the 
sheath which was made of the tree of life. Then they said to Galahad, 
In the name of Jesu Christ, and pray you that ye gird you with this 
sword, which hath been desired so much in the realm of Logris. Now 
let me begin, said Galahad, to gripe this sword for to give you courage : 
but wit ye well it belongeth no more to me then it doth to you. And 
then he griped about it with his fingers a great deal. And then she girt 
him about the middle with the sword : — Now reck I not though I die, 
for now I hold me one of the blessed maidens of the world, which hath 
made the worthiest knight of the world. Damsel, said Galahad, ye 
have done so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life." 

It should be noted that all this occurs, not in connection with this 
part of the history of the quest for the Holy Grail, but later among 
incidents not used by Tennyson. Galahad finds a sword which no man 
could draw from the sheath except the one for whom it was destined. 
Galahad is the fated knight, and becomes its possessor. Then follows 
the story of the girdle quoted above. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 1 77 

16S. E7-e he past away. See vol. i. p. 213. 

172. 77/6' Sifgt; Ferilous. The Perilous Seat. For siege = seat, cf. 
Measure for Aleasure, iv. 2. loi : " Upon the very siege of justice." 
Malory uses the word in this sense in iii. 2 : " Then the bishop of 
Canterbury was fetched, and he blessed the sieges with great royalty 
and devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in their 
sieges." See also iii. 4 : " What is the cause, said king Arthur, that 
there be two places void in the sieges } Sir, said Merlin, there shall no 
man sit in those places but they rhat shall be of most worship. But in 
the Siege Perilous there shall no man sit therein but one, and if there 
be any so hardy to do it he shall be destroyed, and he that shall sit 
there shall have no fellow." 

176. And so 7uas lost. This is not according to Malory or any other 
form of the story that we have seen ; and Tennyson has given us a 
different version of Merlin's fate in Alerlin and Vivien. Littledale 
says that ' Tennyson plainly intends the chair to signify the temptations 
of 'sense.' Merlin himself once yielded to these and was lost." Els- 
dale {Studies ill the Idylls) says : " In our poet's rendering of the story 
we are, I presume, intended to understand the chair to represent alle- 
gorically the chair of knowledge. It is fashioned by Merlin, who sym- 
bolizes the powers of Intellect and Imagination, and it may be taken 
as the product of his lifelong researches and superhuman insight. . . . 
The chair is perilous for good and ill, because the acquisition of know- 
ledge involves increased capacities and responsibilities, whether for good 
or for evil. For whoever sits in the chair cannot remain as he was 
before. He must go forward to a higher perfection or backward to 
deeper failure. In either case he loses his old self: — ' No man could 
sit but he should lose himself.' Merlin satin it and was lost, because his 
discernment of Vivien's guile was unaccompanied by sufificient moral 
reprobation and firmness of will to prevent him from falling into her 
snare." 

But the sitting in the chair and the adventure with Vivien are sepa- 
rate incidents in the story ; and we cannot see how one of these can 
symbolize the other. Each must have its own interpretation as a part 
of the allegory. They may represent similar experiences, but not one 
and the same experience. Perhaps, as Littledale suggests, the knights, 
not knowing the real fate of Merlin, "thought that he had disappeared 
through sitting in the Siege Perilous." 

1S2. And all at once, as there we sat, etc. Cf. Malory (xiii. 7) : " And 
every knight sat in his own place as they were toforehand. Then anon 
they heard cracking and crying of thunder, that them thought that the 
place should all to-drive. In the midst of this blast entered a sun-beam 
more clearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were 
alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to 
behold other, and either saw other by their seeming fairer than ever 
they saw afore. Not for then there was no knight might speak 6ne 
word a great while, and so they looked every man on other, as they had 
been dumb. Then there entered into the hall the holy Graile covered 
with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. 
And there was all the hall full filled with good odours, and every knight 

VOL. II. 



178 NOTES. 

had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world : and when 
the holy Graile had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel 
departed suddenly, that they wist not where it became. Then had they 
all breath to speak. And then the king yielded thankings unto God of 
his good grace that he had sent them. Certes, said the king, we ought 
to thank our Lord Jesu greatly, for that he hath showed us this day at 
the reverence of this high feast of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawaine, 
we have been served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on, 
but one thing beguiled us, we might not see the holy Graile, it was so 
preciously covered : wherefore I will make here avow, that to-morn, 
without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of the Sancgreal, that 
I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and 
never shall I return again unto the court till I have seen it more openly 
than it hath been seen here : and if I may not speed, I sli^ll return 
again as he that may not be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ. 
When they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose 
up the most party, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made. 

"Anon as king Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he 
wist well that they might not againsay their avows. Alas ! said king 
Arthur unto Sir Gawaine, ye have nigh slain me with the avow and 
promise that ye have made. For through you ye have bereft me of the 
fairest fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever were seen 
together in any realm of the world. For when they depart from hence, 
I am sure they all shall never meet more in this world, for they shall 
die many in the quest. And so it forethinketh me a little, for I have 
loved them as well as my life, wherefore it shall grieve me right sore the 
departition of this fellowship. For I have had an old custom to have 
them in my fellowship." 

209. Crying on help. Cried out, gave the cry for help. Cf . Troihis 
a?id Cressida, v. 5. 35 : " crying on Hector ; " Hamlet, v. 2. 375 : " cries 
on havoc," etc. See also 433 below. 

250. The twelve great battles. Cf. Latmcelot and Elaine, 285 fol. 

254. Counter. Opposite. Cf. vol. i. p. 199. 

256. O there, perchance. The 1869 ed. has "then" for there. 

287. What go ye into the wilderness to see ? Cf. Matthetv, xi. 7. 

298. But ye that follow but the leader'' s bell. Like a flock of sheep. 
The 1869 ed. has " you " iox ye. 

300. Taliessin. The name means " the radiant brow." He was the 
prince of British singers, and flourished in the seventh century (Little- 
dale). Compare Gray, The Bard : " Hear from the grave, great Talies- 
sin, hear ! " 

310. Sudden heads of violence. Sudden insurrections. 

312. The strong White Horse. See on Lancelot and Elaine, 298. 

318. This chance of noble deeds. Originally, "The chance," etc. 

350. On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan. Heraldic devices. For 
wyvern, a dragon-like creature, cf. Aylmer^s Field : " Whose blazing 
wyvern weathercock'd the spire," etc. 

352. Bzit in the zvays below. The 1869 ed. ^^^ "street" for ways ; 
and in 355 it reads : " For sorrow, and in the middle street the Queen." 

358. So to the gate, etc. The 1S69 ed. has : — 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 1 79 

" And then we reach'd the weirdly-sculptured gates 
Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically." 

421. Atid I rode oti. The 1869 ed. has " And on I rode " (cf. 379 and 
401 above), and in the preceding line " wearied " for wearying. 

433. Cried out upon me. The 1869 ed. omits ozit — probably a mis- 
IDrint. 

462. The sacring of the mass. The consecration of the bread and wine 
for the mass. The expression is from Malory (xvii. 20) : " And then 
the bishop made semblant as though he would have gone to the sacring 
of the mass. And then he took an ubbly [sacramental cake], which was 
made in likeness of bread ; and at the lifting up there came a figure in 
likeness of a child, and the visage was as red and as bright as any fire, 
and smote himself into the bread, so that they all saw it, that the bread 
was formed of a fleshly man, and then he put it into the holy vessel 
again." 

489. There rose a hill. Originally, " Then rose a hill." 

Stopford Brooke remarks : " In conception, in invention, in descrip- 
tion of invented landscape, and in artistic work, this passing of Galahad 
is splendidly written. It is too long to quote in full, too knit together 
to be spoiled by extracts, and too poetic to criticise. It is its own best 
criticism. 

" This great and lofty vision of the glory of the pure spiritual life, re- 
fined and thrilled by heavenly holiness into full vision with the world 
beyond the sense, and needing no death to enter into the perfect life, is 
done as no one has done this kind of work since Dante." 

509. Shoutings of all the sons of God. Cf. Job, xxxviii. 7. 

526. The spiritual city, etc. Cf. Revelation, xxi. 10 fol. 

558. The market-cross. A common feature of the market-place in 
English towns in the olden time, and still to be seen in some localities. 
Cf. / Henry IV. v. i. 'j-^: " Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in 
churches," etc. 

574. Thither I made. Originally, " Whither I made." 

612. When yule is cold. When the yule-log is burnt out, or when 
Christmas has passed. The poor man must have his blazing fire then, 
if he can afford it at no other time. 

628. Ifi his earth. In his hole. Cf. The Marriage of Geraint, 215. 

646. His former madness. How Lancelot became mad because 
Guinevere was angry with him when she believed him to be in love 
with Elaine, daughter of King Pelles (not the fair maid of Astolat), is 
told by Malory (xi. 9) ; and also, how, after two years, he was healed 
by the Holy Grail (xii. 4). 

648. For Lajtcelofs kith and kin so worship him. The 1S69 ed. reads : 
" For Lancelot's kith and kin adore him so." 

661. Faynim amid their circles. Pagans living in the so-called Druid- 
ical circles, like that at Stonehenge. 

667. What other fire than he, etc. That is, the sun, which they worship. 

681. The seven clear stars of Arthur^ s Table Round. The seven stars 
of the Great Bear, or " the Dipper " as it is called in New England. 

715. Basilisks. The fabulous serpent supposed to kill by its look. 
The cockatrice was a similar creature, sometimes identified with the 



1 80 iVO TES. 

basilisk. Both were used as heraldic emblems; and so were talbots, a 
kind of dog. Cf. 350 above. 

735. The quiet life. Cf. 4 above : " the silent life of prayer," 

759. Like him ojf Cana, etc. See John, ii. 10. 

777. Then I spake, etc. Cf. Malory (xiii. 19, 20) : "And so by prime 
he came to an high hill, and found an hermitage, and an hermit therein, 
which was going unto mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and 
cried on our Lord mercy for his wicked works. So when mass was 
done, Launcelot called him, and prayed him for charity for to hear his 
life. With a good will, said the good man. Sir, said he, be ye of king 
Arthur's court, and of the fellowship of the Round Table ? Yea for- 
sooth, and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that hath been right well 
said of, and now my good fortune is changed, for I am the most wretch 
of the world. The hermit beheld him, and had marvel how he was so 
abashed. Sir, said the hermit, ye ought to thank God more than any 
knight living ; for He hath caused you to have more worldly worship 
than any knight that now liveth. And for your presumption to take 
upon you in deadly sin for to be in His presence, where His flesh and 
His blood was, that caused you ye might not see it with worldly eyes, 
for He will not appear where such sinners be, but if it be unto their 
great hurt, and unto their great shame. And there is no knight living 
now that ought to give God so great thanks as ye ; for He hath given 
you beauty, seemliness, and great strength, above all other knights, and 
therefore ye are the more beholding unto God than any other man to 
love Him and dread Him ; for your strength and manhood will little 
avail you and God be against you. 

" Then Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said. Now I know 
well ye say me sooth. Sir, said the good man, hide none old sin from 
me. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, that were me full loth to discover. For 
this fourteen years I never discovered one thing that I have used, and 
that may I now blame my shame and my misadventure. And then he 
told there that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen un- 
measurably, and out of measure long ; — and all my great deeds of arms 
that I have done, I did the most part for the queen's sake, and for her 
sake would I do battle were it right or wrong, and never did I battle 
all only for God's sake, ,but for to win worship, and to cause me to be 
the better beloved, and little or nought I thanked God of it. Then Sir 
Launcelot said, I pray you counsel me. I will counsel you, said the her- 
mit, if -ye will ensure me that ye will never come in that queen's fellow- 
ship, as much as ye may forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised 
him he would not, by the faith of his body." 

792. But such a blast, etc. Cf. Malory (xvii. 14) : " And the wind arose, 
and drove Launcelot more than a month throughout the sea, where he 
slept but little, but prayed to God that he might see some tidings of the 
Sancgreal. So it befell on a night, at midnight he arrived before a cas- 
tle, on the back side, which was rich and fair. And there was a postern 
opened towards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions 
kept the entry ; and the moon shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard 
a voice that said, Launcelot, go out of this ship, and enter into the cas- 
tle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire. Then he ran to his 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. l8l 

arms, and so armed him, and so he went to the gate, and saw the lions. 
Then set he hand to his sword, and drew it. Then there came a dwarf 
suddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out of 
his hand. Then heard he a voice say, Oh man of evil faith and poor 
belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy harness than in thy Maker ? 
for He might more avail thee than thine armour, in whose service thou 
art set. Then said Launcelot, Fair Father, Jesu Christ, I thank thee of 
thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed. Now see I 
well that ye hold me for your servant. Then took he again his sword, 
and put it up in his sheath, and made a cross in his forehead, and came 
to the lions, and they made semblant to do him harm. Notwithstanding 
he passed by them without hurt, and entered into the castle to the chief 
fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then Launcelot entered in so 
armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was open. And at the last 
he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set his hand 
thereto to have opened it, but he might not." 

Stopford Brooke says of this part of the poem : " Its basis is to be 
found in the old tale ; but whoever reads it in Malory's Morte Dar-thur 
will see how imaginatively it has been re-conceived. It is full of the 
true romantic element ; it is close to the essence of the story of the Holy 
Grail ; there is nothing in the Idylls more beautiful in vision and in 
sound ; and the art with which it is worked is as finished as the concep- 
tion is majestic." 

8io. The enchanted towers of Carhonek. The name is from Malory 
(xvii. i6). After Lancelot had lain "four and twenty days, and also 
many nights, . . . still as a dead man," he recovered from the long 
swoon. " Then they asked him how it stood with him. Forsooth, said 
he, I am whole of body, thanked be our Lord ; therefore, sirs, for God's 
love, tell me where that I am .'' Then said they all that he was in the 
castle of Carbonek." 

862. Deafer than the bine-eyed cat. Cf. Darwin, Origin of Species, chap, 
i. : " Thus cats which are entirely white and have blue eyes are gener- 
ally deaf ; but it has lately been pointed out by Mr. Tait that this is 
confined to the males." 

877. N'ay, hit than errest, etc. He reverts to what Lancelot had said 
in 766 fol. 

895. The silent life. Cf. 4 and 735 above. 

898. However they may crow7i him otherzvhere. Cf. 482 above. 

899. And some among you, etc. Cf. 277 above. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

This Idyll was first published in 1869 in the Holy Grail volume, and 
has been little altered since, except for the insertion of seventeen lines 
(386-403). The story is from Malory (iv. 20-23), but many of the details 
are modified and the deno-Amejit is changed. 

20. Tlie forest called of Dean. The triangular district between the 
Wye and the Severn, as far north as a line drawn from Ross to Glouces- 
ter, was formerly a royal domain ; and the crown lands still amount to 



1 82 NOTES. 

about 25,000 acres. It is now largely a mining district, producing great 
quantities of coal and iron, but there are also extensive tracts of wood- 
land. 

29. That dim day. The "twilight of the grove " (32). 

65. Pclleas gazing thought. The ed. of 1869 has " And Pelleas," etc. 

113. He will fight for 9?ie. The construction is changed from the third 
person to the first, as occasionally elsewhere, in a free-and-easy archaic 
fashion. 

234. Bonjon. The " donjon tower " or " keep " of the castle. Cf. 
Balin and Balan, 329, etc. 

266. And Gazvain passing by, etc. Malory (iv. 20) tells this part of 
the story thus : " And . . . Sir Gawaine saw ten knights that hoved 
still, and made them_ ready with their shields and spears against that one 
knight that came by Sir Gawaine. Then this one knight aventred a 
great spear, and one of the ten knights encountered with him, but this 
woful knight smote him so hard that he fell over his horse tail. So this 
same dolorous knight served them all, that at the least way he smote 
down horse and man, and all he did with one spear. And so when they 
were all ten on foot they went to that one knight, and he stood stone 
still, and suffered them to pull him down off his horse, and bound him 
hand and foot, and tied him under the horse belly, and so led him with 
them. Oh, said Sir Gawaine, this is a doleful sight, to see the yonder 
knight so to be entreated, and it seemeth by the knight that he suffereth 
them to bind him so, for he maketh no resistance. No, said his host, 
that is truth, for and [if] he would they all were too weak so to do him." 

Later, when Gawaine has been told the story of the love of Pelleas for 
Ettarre and her disdainful treatment of the knight, the narrative goes on 
as follows (iv. 21) : " Alas ! said Sir Gawaine, it is great pity of him, and 
after this night I will seek him to-morrow in this forest, to do him all 
the help that I can. So on the morn Sir Gawaine took his leave of his 
host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest. And at the last he met 
with Sir Pelleas making great moan out of measure, so each of them 
saluted other, and asked him why he made such sorrow. And as it is 
above rehearsed. Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawaine : But alway I suffer her 
knights to fare so with me as ye saw yesterday, in trust at the last to win 
her love, for she knoweth well all her knights should not lightly win me 
and me list to fight with them to the uttermost. Wherefore I loved her 
not so sore I had lever die an hundred times, and I might die so oft, 
rather than I would suffer that despite ; but I trust she will have pity 
upon me at the last, for love causeth many a good knight to suffer to 
have his intent, but, alas ! I am unfortunate. And therewith he made 
so great dole and sorrow that unnethe he might hold him on horseback. 
Now, said Sir Gawaine, leave your mourning, and I shall promise you 
by the faith of my body, to do all that lieth in my power to get you the 
love of your lady, and thereto I will plight you my troth. Ah, said Sir 
Pelleas, of what court are ye t tell me, I pray you, my good friend. And 
then Sir Gawaine said, I am of the court of king Arthur, and his sis- 
ter's son, and king Lot of Orkney was my father, and my name is Sir 
Gawaine. And then he said. My name is Sir Pelleas, born in the Isles, 
and of many isles I am lord, and never have I loved lady nor damsel till 



PELLEAS AND ETTA ERE. 1 83 

now in an unhappy time ; and Sir knight, since ye are so nigh cousin 
unto king Arthur, and a king's son, therefore betray me not but lielp me, 
for I may never come by her but by some good knight, for she is in a 
strong castle here fast by within this four mile, and over all this country 
she is lady of. And so I may never come to her presence but as I suffer 
her knights to take me, and but if I did so that I might have a sight of 
her, I had been dead long or this time, and yet fair word had I never of 
her, but when I am brought tofore her she rebuketh me in the foulest man- 
ner. And then they take my horse and harness, and put me out of the 
gates, and she will not suffer me to eat nor drink, and always I offer me 
to be her prisoner, but that she will not suffer me, for I would desire no 
more what pains soever I had, so that I might have a sight of her daily. 
Well, said Sir Gawaine, all this shall I amend, and ye will do as I shall 
devise. I will have your horse and your armour, and so will I ride to 
her castle, and tell her that I have slain you, and so shall I come within 
her to cause her to cherish me, and then shall I do my true part that ye 
shall not fail to have the love of her." 

278. Shivers. One of the many illustrations of the poet's keen obser- 
vation of animals. 

306. Laughed not. A subtle touch. 

Tji^i. From prime to vespers. From morning to night. Prime is one 
of the seven canonical hours, coming immediately after sunrise. 

342. Prowest knight. Bravest, first in prowess. Cf . Spenser, F. Q. ii. 
3. 15 : " For they be two the prowest knights on ground." 

350. Then Pelleas lent his horse, etc. Cf. Malory (iv. 22) : " And 
therewith Sir Gawaine plight his troth unto Sir Pelleas to be true and 
faithful unto him. So each one plight their troth to other, and so they 
changed horses and harness, and Sir Gawaine departed and came to the 
castle whereas stood the pavilions of this lady without the gate. And 
as soon as Ettard had espied Sir Gawaine she fled in toward the cas- 
tle. Sir Gawaine spake on high, and bad her abide, for he was not Sir 
Pelleas ; I am another knight that hath slain Sir Pelleas. Do off your 
helm, said the lady Ettard, that I may see your visage. And so when 
she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas she made him alight, and led him 
unto her castle, and asked him faithfully whether he had slain Sir Pel- 
leas. And he said her yea, and told her his name was Sir Gawaine of 
the court of king Arthur, and his sister's son. Truly, said she, that is , 
great pity, for he was a passing good knight of his body, but of all men 
on live I hated him most, for I could never be quit of him. And for ye 
have slain him I shall be your lady, and to do anything that may please 
you. So she made Sir Gawaine good cheer. Then Sir Gawaine said 
that he loved a lady, and by no mean she would love him. She is to 
blame, said Ettard, and she will not love you, for ye that be so well born 
a man, and such a man of prowess, there is no lady in the world too 
good for you. Will ye, said Sir Gawaine, promise me to do all that ye 
may, by the faith of your body, to get me the love of my lady.'' Yea, 
sir, said she, and that I promise you by the faith of my body. Now, 
said Sir Gawaine, it is yourself that I love so well, therefore I pray you 
hold your promise. I may not choose, said the lady Ettard, but if I 
should be forsworn. And so she granted him to fulfil all his desire. 



1 84 NOTES. 

" So it was then in the month of May that she and Sir Gawaine went 
out of the castle and supped in a pavilion, and in another pavilion she 
laid her damsels, and in the third pavilion she laid part of her knights, 
for then she had no dread of Sir Pelleas. And there Sir Gawaine abode 
with her in that pavilion two days and two nights. And on the third day 
in the morning early Sir Pelleas armed him, for he had never slept since 
Sir Gawaine departed from him. For Sir Gawaine had promised him, by 
the faith of his body, to come to him unto his pavilion by that priory within 
the space of a day and a night. Then Sir Pelleas mounted upon horse- 
back, and came to the pavilions that stood without the castle, and found 
in the first pavilion three knights in three beds, and three squires lying at 
their feet. Then went he to the second pavilion and found four gentle- 
women lying in four beds. And then he went to the third pavilion and 
found Sir Gawaine with his lady Ettard, and when he saw tliat his heart 
well nigh burst for sorrow, and said : Alas ! that ever a knight should be 
found so false. And then he took his horse, and might not abide no 
longer for pure sorrow. And when he had ridden nigh half a mile, he 
turned again and thought to slay them both ; and when he saw them both 
sleeping fast, unnethe he might hold him on horseback for sorrow, and 
said thus to himself, Though this knight be never so false I will never 
slay him sleeping; for I will never destroy the high order of knight- 
hood. And therewith he departed again. And or he had ridden half 
a mile he returned again, and thought then to slay them both, making 
the greatest sorrow that ever man made. And when he came to the 
pavilions he tied his horse to a tree, and pulled out his sword naked in 
his hand, and went to them there as they lay, and yet he thought it were 
shame to slay them sleeping, and laid the naked sword overthwart both 
their throats, and so took his horse and rode his way." 

353- Light-of-love. Trifling or capricious in love. The expression is 
at least as old as the time of Shakespeare, who twice refers to a tune so 
called. Cf. The Two Gentleme?i of Verona, i. 2. 82 : " Best sing it to the 
tune of ' Light-o'-love.' " See also Much Ado, iii. 4. 44. 

379. And you be fair enotv. The 1869 ed. has "ye " ior yoti. 

386-404. Hot was the flight . . . boicfid his horse, etc. For these nine- 
teen lines the ed. of 1869 has only these two : — 

" The night was hot : he could not rest but rode 
Ere midnight to her walls, and bound his horse," etc. 

409. Then he crost the court, etc. The 1869 ed. reads : — 

" Then he crost the court. 
And saw the postern portal also wide 
Yawning ; and up a slope of garden, all 
Of roses white and red, and wild ones mixt," etc. 

419. Then was he iimre, etc. The 1869 ed. reads : — 

" Then was he ware that white pavilions rose. 
Three from the bushes, gilden-peakt." 

421. Her hirdane knights. Her stupid, worthless knights. Liirdane 
(really from the Old French lourdin, dull, blockish, from lourd) was 



PELLEAS AND ETTA I? RE. 1 85 

supposed by some of our old authors to be a corruption of " lord Dane," 
formed in derision of the Danes. It was used as both adjective and 
noun. Compare the Mirror for Magistrates : — 

" In every house lord Dane did then rule all, 
Whence laj'sie lozels lurdanes now we call." 

455. Huge, solid, etc. The 1S69 ed. has " So solid," etc. 

456. The crack of eartlLqttake. See on Mcr/in and Vivien, gj^o (vol. i. 
p. 21S). 

471. O great and sane and simple race of brutes, etc. Cf. In Mcmo- 
riam, xxiii. : — 

" I envj'riot the beast that takes 
His license in the field of time, 
Unletter'd by the sense of crime, 
To whom a conscience never wakes." 

47S. Then she, that felt the cold touch, etc. Cf. Malory (iv. 20) : 
" Then Sir Gawaine and Ettard awoke out of their sleep, and found the 
naked sword overthwart their throats. Then she knew well it was Sir 
Pelleas's sword. Alas! said she to Sir Gawaine, ye have betrayed me 
and Sir Pelleas both, for ye told me ye had slain him, and now I know 
well it is not so, he is on live. And if Sir Pelleas had been as uncour- 
teous to you as ye have been to him, ye had been a dead knight ; but 
ye have deceived me and betrayed me falsely, that all ladies and dam- 
sels may beware by you and me. And therewith Sir Gawaine made 
him ready and went into the forest." 

At this point the poet deserts his authority; but the reader, if he has 
not the Morte Darthnr at hand, may be interested in the conclusion of 
the story as there given : " So it happed then that the damsel of the 
lake Nimue met with a knight of Sir Pelleas, that went on his foot in 
the forest making great dole, and she asked him the cause. And so 
the woful knight told her how that his master and lord was betrayed 
through a knight and a lady, and how he will never aiise out of his bed 
till he be dead. Bring me to him, said she, anon, and I will warrant his 
life, he shall not die for love, and she that hath caused him so to love she 
shall be in as evil plight as he is or it be long, for it is no joy of such a 
proud lady that will have no mercy of such a valiant knight. Anon that 
knight brought her unto him. And when she saw him lie in his bed, 
she thought she saw never so likely a knight : and therewith she threw 
an enchantment upon him, and he fell on sleep. And therewhile she 
rode unto the lady Ettard, and charged no man to awake him till she 
came again. So within two hours she brought the lady Ettard thither, 
and both ladies found him on sleep. Lo, said the damsel of the lake, ye 
ought to be ashamed for to murder such a knight. And therewith she 
threw such an enchantment upon her that she loved him sore, that well 
nigh she was out of her mind. Alas! said the lady Ettard, ho\v is it 
befallen unto me that I love now him that I have most hated of any 
men alive. That is the righteous judgment of God, said the damsel. 
And then anon Sir Pelleas awaked, and looked upon Ettard. And 
when he saw her he knew her, and then he hated her more than any 



1 86 NOTES. 

woman alive, and said : Away traitress, come never in my sight. And 
when she heard him say so, she wept and made great sorrow out of 
measure. Sir knight Pelleas, said the damsel of the lake, take your 
horse and come forth with me out of this country, and ye shall love a 
lady that shall love you. I will well, said Sir Pelleas, for this lady Ettard 
hath done me great despite and shame. And there he told her the be- 
ginning and ending, and how he had purposed never to have arisen till 
that he had been dead, — and now I hate her as much as ever I loved 
her. Thank me, said the damsel of the lake. Anon Sir Pelleas armed 
him, and took his horse, and commanded his men to bring after his 
pavilions and his stuff where the damsel of the lake would assign. So 
the lady Ettard died for sorrow, and the damsel of the lake rejoiced Sir 
Pelleas, and loved together during their life clays." 

490. The star above the wakening su7i. The morning star. Cf. 508 
below. 

515. Mazed with di-eams. Bewildered by them. Cf. Gareth and Ly- 
nette, 1141 : " Hast mazed my wit;" and see note in vol. i. p. 202. 

538. The turning of the world. The rotation of the earth, which 
brings the night. Cf. another allusion to the same astronomical phe- 
nomenon in the lines : " Move eastward, happy earth, and leave," etc. 

543. The dead-green stripes of even. An accurate picture of a certain 
kind of evening sky. 

553. '■No name, no name.^ The 1869 ed. reads : " I have no name." 

560. YeWd the youth. Originally, " yell'd the other." 

565. Yea, between thy lips — and sharp. Littledale remarks : " The 
metaphor of the slanderous tongue, that sharp weapon between the lips, 
is no doubt nearly as old as the human race itself : ' the sons of men, 
whose teeth are spears and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword ' 
{Psalm Ivii. 4). Cf. Cymbeline, iii. 4- 35 : — 

" 'T is slander, 
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue 
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile.' " 

594. And all talk died, &\.z. (Zi. Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere: — 

" Sometimes the sparhawk wheel'd along 
Hush'd all the groves for fear of wrong." 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 

This Idyll was first published in the Contemporary Review for De- 
cember, 187 1. The changes made in it since have been slight. 

The outline of the story of Tristram and his two Isolts and the ven- 
geance of Mark is taken from Malory, but the rest is Tennyson's own. 

Littledale gives the following abstract of the Tristram story : — 

" Tristram, having been wounded by an Irish spear, can only be 
healed by an Irish hand, so he goes to Ireland, and is treated by La 
Beale Isoud or Isolt, daughter of the Irish king. On his return he 
gives a glowing description of her to his uncle Mark, who sends him 
back as his envoy to ask for her hand. On the voyage from Ireland 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 1 8/ 

they innocently drink the potent philtre, and their fatal love for each 
other begins. Long after, when the effects of the philtre have become 
exhausted, Tristranri is hurt by a poisoned arrow, and goes to Brittany 
to be cured by King Hoel's daughter, Isolt of the White Hands (Isoud 
la blanche Maynys), whom he loves and marries. Lancelot reproaches 
him for his inconstancy to La Beale Isoud, and the lady herself writes 
sadly to him. Tristram's old love revives, and he resolves to go to 
Cornwall to see his old love. There is a quarrel, and Tristram re- 
proaches Isolt for her unfaithfulness to him. He goes mad, and throws 
Dagonet into a well. After many adventures Arthur knights him, and 
he runs away with Isolt, but is wounded in a tournament. Mark under- 
takes to nurse him, which he does by putting him into a dungeon. 
Tristram and Isolt again escape, and live in Lancelot's castle of Joyous 
Gard ; he goes out riding with Isolt, both of them being clad in green 
attire, when probably the bower mentioned by Tennyson is constructed. 
He fights with many knights ; but we need not go into the rest of his 
story, of which enough has been given to show its affinity to the Lance- 
lot story, and to illustrate the love-scene with Isolt in the IdyU. We 
may, however, quote Malory's last words about them : ' That traitor king 
Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram, as he sat harping before his 
lady La Beale Isoud, with a trenchant glaive, for whose death was much 
bewailing of every knight that ever was in Arthur's days . . . and La 
Beale Isoud died, swooning upon the cross of Sir Tristram, whereof 
was great pity.' " 

ID. For Arthur and Sir Lancelot, etc. The poet seems to have based 
his story of the ruby necklace on an incident in the life of Alfred, quoted 
in Stanley's Book of Birds, where it is credited to the Monast. Anglic. 
vol. i. : " Alfred, King of the West Saxons, went out one day a-hunting, 
and passing by a certain wood heard, as he supposed, the cry of an infant 
from the top of a tree, and forthwith diligently inquiring of the hunts- 
men what that doleful sound could be, commanded one of them to climb 
the tree, when on the top of it was found an eagle's nest, and lo ! therein, 
a sweet-faced infant, wrapped up in a purple mantle, and upon each arm 
a bracelet of gold, a clear sign that he was born of noble parents. 
Whereupon the king took charge of him, and caused him to be bap- 
tized ; and, because he was found in a nest, he gave him the name of 
Nestingum, and, in aftertime, having nobly educated him, he advanced 
him to the dignity of an earl." 

37. Those diamonds, etc. See Laficelot and Elaine, 34 fol. 

39. Would rather you had let them fall. Originally, " ye " iox you. 

51. ^ great jousts. This use of jousts in the singular is peculiar, and 
is not mentioned in the dictionaries. 

90. Tend him curiously. That is, carefully, the etymological sense of 
the word. 

92. That ever-climbing wave. Cf. The Lotos Eaters : " In ever climb- 
ing up the climbing wave." 

116. A sound is in his ears. See Job, xv. 21. 

132. Where is he who knows .? etc. See The Coming of Arthur, 409, 
410. 

144. His double-dragon'' d chair. See Lancelot and Elaine, 434 fol. 



1 88 NOTES. 

150. VaWd his eyes again. Cast down his eyes. Qi. Guinevere, di^'] : 
" made her vail her eyes." This word vai/ has no connection with veil, 
though often confounded with it. It is contracted from avail, or avale, 
the French avaler (Latin ad valient). Compare Hamlet, i. 2. 70 : — 

" Do not forever with thy vailed lids 
Seek for thy noble father in the dust." 

Avail occurs in Malory (v. 12) : " Then the King availed his visor, with 
a meek and lowly countenance," etc. 

216. A swarthy one. Originally, " a swarthy dame." 

222. Come — let us gladden their sad eyes. Originally, " comfort their 
sad eyes." 

252. And- zvhile he twangled, etc. Littledale says that " Dagonet's 
standing still is doubtless meant to recall St, Matthezu, xi. 17: ' Vv''e 
have piped unto you, and ye have not danced,' etc." It may or may 
not remind us of that passage, but we doubt whether it was " meant " to 
do so. 

256. And being ask' d, etc. Originally, " Then being ask'd," etc. 

259. Than ajty broken music thou canst 7nake. Originally, " ye can 
make." " Properly speaking, broken music meant either (as Chappell 
explains) short unsustained notes, such as are made on stringed instru- 
ments when played without a bow ; or concerted rriusic, played by sev- 
eral instruments in combination " (Littledale). For the play upon the 
expression, see As You Like It, i. 2. 150, Henry V. v. 2. 263, and Troilus 
and Cressida, iii. i. 52. 

278. A-ew leaf, new life, etc. Cf. The Throstle : " Light again, leaf 
again, life again, love again." 

309. A naked aught. A mere cipher. 

322. A Paynim harper. The allusion to Orpheus needs no explana- 
tion. 

333. The Harp of Arthur. See on Gareth and Lynette, 1281 (vol. i. 
p. 203). 

343. The black king's highway. The " broad road leading to destruc- 
tion." 

357. Burning spurge. A plant of the genus Euphorbia, which burns 
with an acrid smoke. 

371. The slot or fewmets of a deer. "Slot and fewmets (footprints 
and droppings) are old terms of 'venerie,' or woodcraft" (Littledale). 

373. From lawn to lawn. For lawn as an open place in a forest, cf. 
A JDream of Fair Women : — 

" On those long, rank, dark wood-walks drench'd in dew, 
Leading from lawn to lawn." 

Malory (iv. 19) has the word in this sense : " So on the morn they rode 
into the forest of adventure till they came to a lawn, and thereby they 
found a cross." 

392. Tonguesters. The word, which may be the poet's own, occurs 
again in Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, 130 : " Thro' the tonguesters 
we may fall." 

421. Sallowy isle. Covered with sallows, or willows. 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 1 89 

423. Machicolated. Furnished with a projecting gallery, with open- 
ings in the floor for pouring down melted lead, etc., upon an enemy. 

43-2. In a field noir. In a black field; the French noir being, the 
heraldic term for the color. 

450. The scorpion-worm, etc. A legendary creature, evidently sug- 
gested by the old notion (long since proved false by naturalists) that 
the scorpion, if surrounded by fire, will sting itself to death. The use 
of worm is suggested by the obsolete sense of snake, dragon, etc. Cf. 
Measure for Meastcre, iii. i. 17 : — 

" For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
Of a poor worm." 

It is in a similar sense that Venus ( Vejttis and Adonis, 933) calls Death 
" grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm." 

461. Fall, as the crest, etc. The elaborate simile seems out of keep- 
ing with the fall of the drunken knight from his horse ; but it is an 
" Homeric echo," like not a few others in the Idylls. 

467. Then the knights, etc. Originally, " while the knights," etc. 

477. Then, echoing yell with yell. Originally, " Then, yell with yell 
echoing." 

479. Alioth and Alcor. Stars in the Great Bear. Alcor is really a 
fifth-magnitude star close to Mizar, and distinguishable only by good 
eyes. For the reference to the Aurora borealis, cf. The Passing of Ar- 
thur, 307. 

481. As the water Moab saw, etc. See 2 Kings, iii. 22. 

483. A7id lazy-plunging sea. Cf. The Palace of Art : — 

" that hears all night 
The plunging seas draw backward from the land 
Their moon-led waters white ; ' 

and A Dream of Fair Women : — 

" I would the white cold heavy-plunging foam, 
Whirl'd by the wind, had roll'd me deep below, 
Then when I left my home." 

495. What, if she hate me now ? Originally, " an " for if, as also in 
the next line. 

501. Last in a roky hollow, belling, etc. Roky (associated with reek) 
means misty, foggy. For belling as applied to hounds, cf. A Midsum- 
mer- Niglifs Dream, iv. i. 128 : — ; 

" Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, 
Each under each ; " 

that is, like a chime of bells. 

502. Felt the goodly hounds Yelp at his heart. Littledale thinks this 
may mean that " the belling of the hounds set the hunter's heart throb- 
bing in harmony — he longed to follow the chase, but turned aside 
to Tintagil ; " but Elsdale's explanation, that it is a presentiment of com- 
ing disaster, is perhaps to be preferred. 

504. Tintagil. The ruins of the castle are still to be seen " by the 
Cornish sea," six miles from Camelford. The keep, the oldest part of 



J 



190 NOTES. 

the structure, is probably Norman, but there may have been a Saxon, 
and perhaps also a British, stronghold on the same site. 

509. The spiring stone. The spiral stairway of stone. The diction- 
aries do not recognize this sense of spiring, but we have no doubt that it 
was what Tennyson had in mind, rather than rising as a spire. 

543. Ye twain had fallen out, etc. Cf. Malory (viii. 13) : " And then 
largely king Meliodas and his queen parted of their lands and goods to Sir 
Tristram. Then by the licence of king Meliodas his father he returned 
again unto the court of king Mark, and there he lived in great joy long 
time, until at the last there befel a jealousy and an unkindness between 
king Mark and Sir Tristram, for they loved both one lady, and she was 
an earl's wife, that hight Sir Segwarides. And this lady loved Sir Tris- 
tram passing well, and he loved her again, for she was a passing fair 
lady, and that espied Sir Tristram well. Then king Mark understood 
that, and was jealous, for king Mark loved her passingly well. So it 
fell upon a day, this lady sent a dwarf unto Sir Tristram, and bad him 
say that as he loved her that he would be with her the next day follow- 
ing. Also she charged you that ye come not to her but if ye be well 
armed, for her lover was called a good knight. Sir Tristram answered 
to the dwarf, Recommend me unto my lady, and tell her I will not fail 
but I will be with her the term that she hath set me. And with this 
answer the dwarf departed. And king Mark espied that the dwarf was 
with Sir Tristram, upon message from Sir Segwarides's wife ; then 
king Mark sent for the dwarf. And when he was come he made the 
dwarf by force to tell him all, why and wherefore that he came on mes- 
sage to Sir Tristram. Now, said king Mark, go where thou wilt, and 
upon pain of death that thou say no word that thou spakest with me. 
So the dwarf departed from the king. And that same time that was 
set betwixt Sir Segwai'ides's wife and Sir Tristram, king Mark armed 
him, and made him ready, and took two knights of his council with 
him, and so he rode afore, for to abide by the way, to await upon Sir 
Tristram. And as Sir Tristram came riding upon his way, with his 
spear in his hand, king Mark came hurtling upon him with his two 
knights suddenly. And all three smote him with their spears, and 
king Mark hurt Sir Tristram on the breast right sore ; and then Sir 
Tristram feutered his spear, and smote his uncle king Maik such a stroke 
that he rashed him to the earth, and bruised him that he lay still in a 
swoon, and it was long or he might move himself." 

549. Queen Paramotmt. That is, Guinevere. Paramount in this offi- 
cial sense (preeminent, supreme) is always put after the noun ; as Lord 
Paramotmt, etc. Cf. Blackstone, Commentaries, ii. 5 : " the king, who 
is styled the lord paramount, or above all." This use is occasionally 
extended to other nouns, for the sake of emphasis. Thus Bacon has 
" a traitor paramount ; " and Howells refers to the Redemption as a 
*' blessing paramount," etc. 

555. My dole of beauty. My portion or endowment. 

570. To sin in leading-strings. Referring to what he has just said of 
the sin of Guinevere. 

588. The king was all fiilfill'd zuith gratefdness. For fidfil in the 
old sense of fill full, cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 136. 5 : — 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. I9I 

" ' Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love. 
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one." 

Wiclif has in Matthew, v. 6 : " Blessid be thei that hungren and thirs- 
ten rigtwisnesse ; for thei schal be fulfillid." 

594. By whom all men Are noble. Compared with whom all men, even 
the meanest, are noble. 

627. The swineherd's malkin in the mast. Cf. The Princess, v. : — 

" If this be he, — or a draggled mawkin thou, 
That tends her bristled grunters in tlie sludge ! " 

Mawkin is only a phonetic spelling of malkin, which means a kitchen- 
wench or other female menial ; as, in these passages, one who helps 
a swineherd take care of his hogs. Cf. Shakespeare, Coriolanus, ii. i. 
224 : " the kitchen malkin." The word is probably a diminutive of 
Mall (cf. Twelfth Night, i. 3. 135 : " Mistress Mall's picture "), or Utary ; 
but it was also connected with Matilda. The Pro7nptoritmi Parvulorum 
has " Malkyne, or Mawt, proper name MatildisT 

629. Far other was the Tristram, .t-ic. This line is not in the ist ed. 

650. Vows ! did you keep, etc. The ist ed. has " ye " iox you. 

690. The wide world laughs at it. Originally " The great world," etc.' 

692. The ptarmigan, etc. "The color of this bird varies, being 
brownish-gray in summer and white in winter. The changes of plumage 
enable it to harmonize with its surroundings at the various seasons. If 
the ptarmigan's feathers were to turn white before the winter snows 
began, it would be seen by the eagle-owls and falcons, and would soon 
be killed " (Littledale). 

695. The garnet-headed yaffingale. The green woodpecker, Geci^ius 
viridis ; so called from its loud laughing notes. It is also known as the 
yajle (or yaffil) and yaffler. 

712. Press this a little closer. That is, stop talking. 

721. The lawns. See on 373 above. 

725. Ay, ay, O, ay, etc. The song " represents the contrast between 
earthly and spiritual ideas, Arthur's real star on high and Tristram's 
phantom star on the level of earth. One star, Arthur's lofty ideal, was 
far distant, making its silent music up in heaven, too far for Tristram to 
reach to ; the other, earthly delight, was near and seemed attainable ; 
but one was real and will endure, the other will pass away when the 
winds — the sorrows and passions of earth — ruffle the mere, the human 
heart" (Littledale). 

743. He spoke, he turned, etc. The ist ed. reads : — 

" He rose, he turn'd, and, flinging round her neck, 
Claspt it ; but while he bow'd himself to lay 
Warm kisses in the hollow of her throat, 
Out of the dark," etc. 

748. "■Mark's way,'' said Mark. Quoting what she had said (530 
above) and he had overheard. 

752. The great Queen's bower was dark. Her chamber was dark, as 
she had already fled to Almesbury. 



192 



GUINEVERE. 



This Idyll was one of the four published in 1859, and was altered but 
little in subsequent editions. 

The poet is indebted to Malory for only a few hints of the story — 
Arthur's discovery of the guilt of Lancelot and Guinevere ; her condem- 
nation to be burnt alive ; her escape from the stake through Lancelot, 
who carries her off to his castle of La Joyeuse Gard ; the siege of the 
castle by Arthur, who compels Lancelot to give up the Queen; and her 
retirement — but not until after Arthur's death — to Almesbury, where 
she " was ruler and abbess as reason would." 

9. For hither had she fled, etc. The 1859 ed. reads : — 

" For hither had she fled, her cause of flight 
Sir Modred ; he the nearest to the King, 
His nephew, ever like a subtle beast, 
Lay couchant," etc. 

Littledale notes that, " by a curious coincidence, this is the very simile 
that Arthur Hallam used to describe Tennyson's fame waiting to come 
upon him : " — 

" A being full of clearest insight, 

. . . whose fame 
Is couching now with panther eyes intent, 
As who shall say, ' I '11 spring to him anon. 
And have him for my own.' " 

Almesbury, now Amesbury, is about eight miles north of Salisbury, 
and the old Abbey Church is still standing. It is said to be on the site 
of an ancient British monastery, the foundation of which has been vari- 
ously ascribed to Prince Ambrosius, who lived at the time of the Saxon 
invasion, and to one Ambri, a monk. This abbey appears to have been 
destroyed by the Danes, about the time of Alfred. About the year 980, 
Alfrida, or Ethelfrida, the Queen Dowager of the Saxon king Edgar, 
erected here a monastery for nuns, dedicating it to St. Mary and St. 
Melarius, a Cornish saint whose relics are preserved here. The house 
was of the Benedictine order, and continued as an independent monas- 
tery till the time of Henry II. in 1177, when the abbess was charged 
with immoral conduct, and the community was dissolved. Later it was 
made "a cell to the abbey of Fontevrault, in Anjou, whence a prioress 
and twenty-four nuns were brought to Amesbury." From this time the 
nunnery, with some changes, lasted until the general dissolution of 
such houses in the time of Henry VIII. Mary, the sixth daughter of 
Edward I., took the veil at Amesbury in 1285, together with thirteen 
young ladies of noble families. Two years later, Eleanor, queen of 
Henry III. and mother of Edward I., herself took the veil here, where 
she died and was buried in 1292. Amesbury finally became one of the 
richest nunneries in England, but how long it remained subject to Fonte- 
vrault we are not told. Aubrey says that the last lady abbess of Ames- 
bury "was 140 yeares old when she dyed." 



GUINEVERE. 1 93 

15. Lo7-ds of the White Horse. See on Lancelot and Elaine, 2gj 
above. 

22. With plumes that mock'd the may. That is, white as the hawthorn 
blossoms. Cf. The Miller'' s Daughter., 130 : " The lanes, you know, 
were white with may." See also on Gareth and Lynette, 575 (vol. i. 
p. 198). 

28. Lissome. Lithe, supple. See on Merlin and Vivien, 221 (vol. i. 
p. 215). 

56. I shtidder, etc. An ancient superstition. 

97. And part forever. Passion-pale they met, etc. The 1859 ^^• 
reads : — 

" And part forever. Vivien, lurking, heard. 
She told Sir Modred. Passion-pale they met." 

120. / will draw me into sajtctiiary. That is, "take sanctuary," or 
seek refuge in a sacred place affording protection from arrest or legal 
process. In Richard III. (ii. 2. 66) Queen Elizabeth says to her son : 
" Come, come, my boy ; we will to sanctuary ; " and they go to the 
sanctuary at Westminster, within the Abbey precincts, which retained 
its privileges as a refuge for criminals until the dissolution of the mo- 
nastery, and for debtors until 1601. In the Comedy of Errors, when 
Antipholus has taken refuge in the priory, and Adriana wishes to have 
him brought forth, the abbess says to her : — 

" He took this place for sanctuary, 
And it shall privilege him from your hands." 

124. There kiss'd, and parted weeping. As alread)' intimated, this is 
not the end of their intimacy as Malory tells the story. After they part, 
Lancelot rescues Guinevere from the death at the stake to which she is 
condemned by Arthur, and carries her off to his castle of Joyous Gard. 
There he is besieged by Arthur and Gawain ; but the Pope sends bulls 
to put a stop to the quarrel. Then Guinevere is given up to Arthur 
with great pomp and ceremony, as described by Malory (xx. 14) : " Then 
Sir Launcelot purveyed him an hundred knights, and all were clothed in 
green velvet, and their horses trapped to their heels, and every knight 
held a branch of olive in his hand in tokening of peace, and the queen 
had four and twenty gentlewomen following her in the same wise, and 
Sir Launcelot had twelve coursers following him, and on every courser 
sat a young gentleman, and all they were arrayed in green velvet, with 
sarpis of gold about their quarters, and the horse trapped in the same 
wise down to the heels with many ouches, set with stones and pearls in 
gold, to the number of a thousand ; and she and Sir Launcelot were 
clothed in white cloth of gold tissue, and right so as ye have heard, as 
the French book maketh mention, he rode with the queen from Joyous 
Gard to Carlisle, and so Sir Launcelot rode throughout Carlisle, and so 
in the castle, that all men might behold and wit you well there was 
many a weeping eye. And then Sir Launcelot himself alight, and 
avoided his horse, and took the queen, and so led her where king Arthur 
was in his seat, and Sir Gawaine sat afore him, and many other great 
lords. So when Sir Launcelot saw the king and Sir Gawaine, then he 

VOL. II. 



194 NOTES. 

led the queen by the arm, and then he kneeled down, and the queen 
both. Wit you well, then was there many bold knights there with king 
Arthur that wept as tenderly as though they had seen all their kin afore 
them. So the king sat still, and said no word." But Lancelot makes a 
long speech, and there is much further parleying between Gawain and 
Lancelot; after which (xx. 17), " Sir Launcelot said unto Guenever, in 
hearing of the king and them all, Madam, now I must depart from you 
and this noble fellowship for ever ; and sithen it is so, I beseech you to 
pray for me, and say me well, and if ye be hard bestad by any false 
tongues, lightly, my lady, let send me word, and if any knight's hands 
may deliver you by battle, I shall deliver you. And therewithal Sir 
Launcelot kissed the queen, and then he said all openly. Now let see 
what he be in this place, that dare say the queen is not true unto my 
lord Arthur : let see who will speak, and he dare speak. And there- 
with he brought the queen to the king, and then Sir Launcelot took his 
leave and departed ; and there was neither king, duke ne earl, baron ne 
knight, lady nor gentlewoman, but all they wept as people out of their 
mind, except Sir Gawaine." 

Lancelot then goes to his castle " over the sea," where Arthur, insti- 
gated by Gawain, again besieges him ; but the king is called back to 
England by tidings that Modred has usurped his crown and would fain 
marry Guinevere. Then follows the war with Modred and " the last 
great battle in the west," as described in The Passing of Arthur. 

147. For housel or for shrift. For receiving the eucharist or for 
confession. 

148. Cofnmtmed. Accented on the first syllable, as regularly in 
Shakespeare. Cf. Hamlet, iv. 5. 202 : " Laertes, I must commune with 
your grief," etc. 

166. Late, late, so late ! It is hardly necessary to say that the song is 
founded upon the parable of the wise and foolish virgins (Matthew, xxv.). 

289. Btide and Bos. Districts of Cornwall. 

292. Tintagil. See on The Last Tournament, 504. The 1859 ed. has 
" Dundagil " here. 

294. Approven. Elsewhere Tennyson has " approved." See on 
Balin and Balan, 36 (vol. i. p. 211). 

345. Scape. Not to be printed \cape. See on Gareth and Lynette, 626 
(vol. i. p. 199). 

367. The simple, fearful child. For fearful in the archaic sense of 
full of fear, frightened, cf. Venus and Adonis, 677 : " Pursue these fear- 
ful creatures o'er the downs" — the creatures being "the timorous 
flying hare " (called "the fearful flying hare " in j Henry VI. ii. 5. 130), 
the fox, and the roe. See also Jttdges, vii. 3, Matthew, viii. 26, etc. 

382. Retinue. Accented on the second syllable ; as in The Princess, 
iii. 179: "Went forth in long retinue, following up;" and Aylmer's 
Field, 842 : " The dark retinue reverencing death." So Milton, in the 
two instances in which he uses the word in verse (P. L. v. 355, and 
P. R. ii. 419), and Shakespeare (the only instance in verse) in Lear, 
i. 4. 221 : '* But other of your insolent retinue." 

385. For the ti?nc Was may-time. That is, when the hawthorn was in 
bloom. See on 22 above. 



GUINEVERE. 



f95 



400. Where first she saw the King. The ed. of 1859 has " when first," 
etc. 

420. Dead before thy shame. We learn here that Leodogran, the 
father of Guinevere, is no more. 

421. Well is it that no child is bortt of thee. Littledale remarks here : 
" This is the one unduly hard thing that Arthur says in his otherwise 
just words to her. Well it may be, now, in her dishonor, that she has 
no children ; but how different, with sons and daughters — the true 
' warmth of double life ' — around her, her career might have been it is 
not difficult to imagine. ' He has no children,' says Macduff of Mal- 
colm ; we may say it here of Arthur. It makes him harder on her than 
he might otherwise have been. 

" The line is introduced no doubt to lend force to the antithesis that 
follows : ' The children born of thee,' etc." 

429. Itt twelve great battles. See on Lancelot and Elaiite, 280, above. 

470. To honor his own word, etc. This line is not in the 1859 ed. 

481. Before I wedded thee. Originally, " until I wedded thee." 

491. Scathe. Injury, damage. Cf. King John, ii. i, 75; "To do 
offence and scathe in Christendom," etc. 

508. Yet mtist I leave thee, etc. Littledale remarks : " It is a ques- 
tion, perhaps, whether Arthur's speech would not have been the better 
for the omission of lines 509-520, and had read — 

" ' I am not made of so slight elements. 

Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame. 
Better the King's waste hearth and aching heart 
Than thou reseated,' etc. 

After all he has said of her sin previously, it is almost an anti-climax to 
divert our attention from his own particular case to the general case of 
the man ' Who either for his owner children's sake'' lets the false wife 
abide within his house. He has just emphasized the fact of her being 
childless, and now he speaks of the general case when there are chil- 
dren to be considered. It may be urged that it is Arthur's nature to be 
didactic. This is true, but his maxims are out of place here alone with 
Guinevere : there is no necessity for this further justification of his 
course of action." 

535. The flaming death. Being burnt at the stake, a punishment for 
unfaithful wives, mentioned several times by Malory. 

569. Where I mnst strike, etc. The 1859 ed. reads : — 

" Where I must strike against my sister's son, 
Leagued with the lords of the White Horse and knights 
Once mine, and strike him dead," etc. 

601. Moving ghostlike to his doom. " That doom is told in The Pass- 
ing of Arthur, but that he is already enwound by its misty pall, and 
himself a ghost in it, is nobly conceived, and as splendidly expressed " 
(Stopford Brooke). 

642. I yearned for warmth, etc. Originally, "I wanted warmth," etc. 

657. Made her vail her eyes. See on The Last Tournament, 150 
above. 



196 



NOTES. 



677. Dole. Charity. 

679. Haler. Healthier ; in a moral sense. 

692. To where beyond these voices there is peace. As Littledale re- 
marks, " The pathetic gentleness of the cadence is as exquisite as that 
in Milton's finest verse, ' And I shall shortly be with them that rest.' " 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

This Idyll in its present form was first published in the Holy Grail 
volume, 1869 5 but, with the exception of 169 lines at the beginning and 
30 at the close, it was printed in 1842 in The Epic, which is still in- 
cluded in the collected poems. 

The story of the Idyll is taken from Malory (xxi. 5). 

6-28. For on their march . . . but shall not die. These twenty-three 
lines are not in the 1869 ed., which continues thus : " Before that last 
weird battle in the west," etc. 

30. There ca7ne on A^'t/mr sleeping, Gawain, etc. Cf. Malory (xxi. 3) : 
" And then he fell on slumbering again, not sleeping nor thoroughly 
waking. So the king seemed verily that there came Sir Gawaine unto 
him with a number of fair ladies with him. And when king Arthur saw 
him, then he said. Welcome, my sister's son, I wend thou hadst been 
dead, and now I see thee on live, much am I beholding unto Almighty 
Jesu. Oh, fair nephew, and my sister's son, what be these ladies that 
hither be come with you .' Sir, said Sir Gawaine, all these be ladies for 
whom I have foughten when I was man living : and all these are those 
that I did battle for in righteous quarrel. And God hath given them 
that grace at their great prayer, because I did battle for them, that they 
should bring me hither unto you, thus much had God given me leave, 
for to warn you of your death ; for- and ye fight as to-morn with S ir 
Mordred, as ye both have assigned, doubt ye not ye must be slain, and 
the most part of your people on both parties. And for the great grace 
and goodness that Almighty Jesu hath unto you, and for pity of you and 
many more other good men there shall be slain, God hath sent me to 
you, of his special grace, to give you warning, that in no wise ye do 
battle as to-morn, but that ye take a treaty for a month day ; and proffer 
you largely, so as to-morn to be put in a delay. For within a month 
shall come Sir Launcelot, with all his noble knights, and rescue you 
worshipfully, and slay Sir Mordred and all that ever will hold with him. 
Then .Sir Gawaine and all the ladies vanished. And anon the king 
called upon his knights, squires, and yeomen, and charged them wighlly 
to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto him. And when they 
were come, the king told them his vision, what Sir Gawaine had told 
him, and warned him that if he fought on the morn he should be slain." 

61. Once thine, etc. The 1869 ed. reads: — 

" Once thine, whom thou hastloved, but baser now 
Than heathen scoffing at their vows and thee." 

68. And brake the petty kings, ajtd fought with Rome. This line is not 
in the 1869 ed., in which the next line begins with "And thrust," etc. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 1 97 

82. A land of old, etc. See on Lancelot and Elaine, 35, above. 

85. And the long nuvititains. Originally, " the long mountain." 

87. The phantom circle. The indistinct line dividing the sea from the 
sky in the distance. 

90. When the great light of heaven, etc. When the s mi was lowest ; 
that is, at the winter solstice. 

129. Only the wan wave, etc. Originally, "the waste wave." 

170. So all day long, etc. With this sonorous line the early Morte 
d''Arthii!' begins. 

Stedman in his Victorian Poets, remarks: "The Morte d'' Arthur of 
1842 is Homeric to the farthest degree possible in the slow, Saxon 
movement of the verse ; grander, with its ' hollow oes and aes,' than any 
succeeding canto, always excepting Guinevere." 

175. The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him. After this line, the Morte 
d' Arthur of 1842 has the line, " Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights ; " 
omitted here, of course, because the fact is mentioned in line 2 of the 
new matter. 

180. A great water. Brimley (in his paper on Tennyson in Cambridge 
Essays, 1855) remarks : " This phrase has probably often been ridi- 
culed as affected phraseology for ' a great lake ; ' but it is an instance of 
the intense presentative power of Mr. Tennyson's genius. It precisely 
marks the appearance of a large lake outspread and taken in at one 
glance from a high ground. Had ' a great lake ' been substituted for it, 
the phrase would have needed to be translated by the mind into water 
of a certain shape and size, before the picture was realized by the ima- 
gination. ' A great lake ' is, in fact, one degree removed from the sen- 
suous to the logical, — from the individual appearance to the generic 
name, and is, therefore, less poetic and pictorial." 

195. Thou, therefore take my brand Excalibtir, etc. Cf. Malory 
(xxi. 5) : " But my time hieth fast, said the king. Therefore said Ar- 
thur, take thou Excalibur, my good sword, and go with it to yonder 
water side, and when thou comest there, I charge thee throw my sword 
in that water, and come again, and tell me what thou there seest. My 
lord, said Bedivere, your commandment shall be done, and lightly bring 
you word again. So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld 
that noble sword, that the pommel and haft were all of precious stones, 
and then he said to himself, If I throw this rich sword in the water, 
thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss. And then Sir Bedi- 
vere hid Excalibur under a tree. Aiid as soon as he might he came 
again unto the king, and said he had been at the water, and had thrown 
the sword into the water. What sawest thou there ? said the king. 
Sir, lie said, I saw nothing but waves and winds. That is untruly said 
of thee, said the king ; therefore go thou lightly again, and do my com- 
mand as thou art to me lief and dear, spare not, but throw it in. Then 
Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand ; and then 
him thought sin and shame to throw away that noble sword ; and so eft 
he hid the sword, and returned again, and told to the king that he had 
been at the water, and done his commandment. What saw thou there ? 
said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but the waters wap and the 
waves wan. Ah traitor, untrue, said king Arthur, now hast thou be- 



198 NOTES. 

trayed me twice. Who would have wend that thou that hast been to me 
so lief and dear, and thou art named a noble knight, and would betray me 
for the riches of the sword. But now go again lightly, for thy long 
tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold. 
And but if thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall slay 
thee with mine own hands, for thou wouldest for my rich sword see me 
dead. Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly 
took it up, and went to the water side, and there he bound the girdle 
about the hilts, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he 
might, and there came an arm and an hand above the water, and met it, 
and caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished 
away the hand with the sword in the water. So Sir Bedivere came 
again to the king, and told him what he saw. Alas, said the king, help 
me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long. Then Sir Bedivere 
took the king upon his back, and so went with him to that water side. 
And when they were at the water side, even fast by the bank hoved a 
little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and among them all was a queen, 
and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and shrieked when they 
saw king Arthur. Now put me into the barge, said the king : and so he 
did softly. And there received him three queens with great mourning, 
and so they set him down, and in one of their laps king Arthur laid his 
head, and then that queen said, Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried 
so long from me ? Alas, this wound on your head hath caught over 
much cold. And so then they rowed from the land ; and Sir Bedivere 
beheld all those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried, Ah, my 
lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye go from me, and leave me 
here alone among mine enemies. Comfort thyself, said the king, and do 
as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for to trust in. For I will 
into the vale of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound. And if thou 
hear never more of me, pray for my soul. But ever the queens and the 
ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity to hear. And as soon as Sir 
Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so 
took the forest, and so he went all that night, and in the morning he was 
ware betwixt two holts hoar of a chapel and an hermitage." 

205. But fling him far. The personal pronoun him is used inter- 
changeably with it in referring to the sword. The former has a sugges- 
tion of affection in Arthur's mouth, as of admiration in Bedivere's. 

206. Seest. Printed "seest" in the English editions, indicating that 
the poet meant it to be a dissyllable for the sake of euphony, though the 
metre does not require it. 

21 r. Hest. Not to be printed liest, as it is an independent word, often 
used by Shakespeare and other eai^ly writers. 

219. The shining levels of the lake. "The classical ccqicora may have 
suggested the ' shining /6'z/i?/j,' but there is a deeper reason for the change 
of phrase, for the 'great water,' as seen from the high ground, becomes a 
series of flashing surfaces when Sir Bedivere looks along it from its 
margin " (Brimley). 

224. Diamond sparks. The reading of the Morle d'' Arthur down to 
1853 was " diamond studs." 

228. This way and that, etc. A translation of Virgil, yEncid, iv. 285 : 
" Atque animum nunc hue celerem, nunc dividit illuc." 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 1 99 

238. I heard the ripple, etc. As Brimley remarks, "the 'ripple wash- 
ing in the reeds ' and ' the wild \\2itex lappiitg on the crags ' are two phrases 
marking exactly the difference of sound produced by water swelling up 
against a permeable or impermeable barrier." 

248. Lie/. Loved, beloved. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. i. 3. 28: "Then I 
leave you, my lief, yborn of heavenly berth ; " and Id. iii. 2. 33 : " tell me 
therefore, my liefest liefe." The superlative also occurs in 2 Hetiry VI. 
iii. I. 164 : " my liefest liege," etc. Alder-liefest (dearest of all) is found 
in the same play, i. i. 28 : " mine alder-liefest sovereign." 

251. Across the ridge, etc. This line was inserted in the Morte d' Ar- 
thur in 1853. 

272. Wrought by the lonely Maiden of the Lake. See The Coming of 
Arthur, 2S5, and note in vol. i. p. 192. 

300. I will arise and slay thee with my hands. As Forman remarks, 
this line is " one of the master touches of a masterly poem." Cf. Malory 
(x. 21 ) : "I shall slay thee with mine own hands." See also the passage 
quoted on 195 above. 

307. The northern 7norn. The aurora borealis. Cf. The Talking Oak, 

275: — 

" The northern morning o'er thee shoot. 
High up, in silver spikes ! " 

Tennyson is fond of thus translating a classical term into the vernacu- 
lar. Cf. "mother-city" for 7netropolis in The Princess, i. iii, and 
" mother town " in In Memoriam, xcviii. ; also. " tortoise " for testudo 
in A Dream of Fair Women, 207. 

Brimley remarks on the present passage : " An inferior artist would 
have shouted through a page, and emptied a whole pallet of color, with- 
out any result but interrupting his narrative, where Tennyson in three 
lines strikingly illustrates the fact he has to tell, — associates it impres- 
sively with one of nature's grandest phenomena, and gives a complete 
picture of this phenomenon." 

351. Larger than hu7nan. Cf. the description of Arthur in Gtiine- 
vere, 598. 

354. Dry clash' d his harness, etc. " We hear all the changes on the 
vowel a — every sound of it used to give the impression — and then, in 
a moment, the verse runs into breadth, smoothness, and vastness ; for 
Bedivere comes to the shore and sees the great water : — 

" ' And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake 

And the long glories of the winter moon,' 

in which the vowel o in its changes is used as the vowel a has been used 
before " (Stopford Brooke). 

366. Three queens. Cf. The Comir.g of Arthur, 2']<jio\. 

367. A cry that shivered, etc. " In some over-fastidious moods we 
might be inclined to charge this with a touch of that exaggeration 
which belongs to the ' spasmodic school ; ' but the cry comes from a 
company of spirits, amid mountains whose natural power of echo is 
heightened by the silence of night, the clearness of the wintry air, and 
the hardening effect of frost. Such, a cry at such a time and in such 
a place would thrill from rock to rock, from summit to summit, till it 



200 NOTES. 

seemed to pierce the sky in a hurtling storm of multitudinous arrowy 
sounds, and die away in infinitely distant pulsations among the stars." 
(Brimley). 

370. Where no one comes, etc. " This passage may seem at first to 
add nothing to the force of the comparison, as the shrillness of the wind 
would not be greater in an uninhabited place than anywhere else in 
open ground. But the mournfulness of the feeling a man would expe- 
rience in such a place, from the sense of utter isolation and sterility, is 
blended with the naturally sad wail of the wind over a wide waste, and 
the addition thus becomes no mere completion of a thought of which 
only part is wanted for the illustration — though that were allowable 
enough, according to ordinary poetic usage, — but gives a heightening 
of sentiment without which the illustration itself would be incomplete 
and less impressive " (Brimdey). 

Cf . The Palace of Art, 65 : — 

" One seem'd all dark and red, — a tract of sand, 
And some one pacing there alone, 
Who paced forever in a glimmering land. 
Lit with a low large moon." 

Here the impression of loneliness is heightened by the introduction of 
the solitary wanderer into the picture. We have often thought of this' 
in reading the poem, as in looking on the large painting by Lear, illus- 
trating the passage, which hangs in the hall of Tennyson's mansion at 
Aldworth. 

373. So to the barge they cajne. The reading in the Moi-te d' Arthur is 
" And to the barge," etc. 

379. And dropping bitter tears against a brow. The 1869 ed., like the 
Morte d'' Arthur, has " his brow." 

383. Cuisses. Armor for the thighs ; also spelt cuishes. Cf. i Henry 
IV. iv. I. 105: — 

" I saw young Harry with his beaver on, 

His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd," etc. 

" The passage is a fine instance of a poetical use of simile and figure. 
The moon fading in the early morning, the dazzling brightness of the 
rising sun, the shattered column, the glancing flight of a shooting star, 
bring before the mind not only the dying king, pale and bleeding, but 
the contrast between his present weakness and the glory and triumphs 
of his chivalrous and brilliant hfe. In a few lines "his whole story is 
told: it is not merely a dying warrior who lies before us, but the 
strength, the state, the splendor, and enjoyment of his past life flash 
before the imagination, and deepen the sadness and humiliation of his 
defeat and death " (Brimley). 

408. The old order changeth, etc. Repeated from The Coming of 
Artlmr, 508. 

422. For so the whole round earth, etc. Mr. J. C. Collins compares 
Archdeacon Hare's sermon on The Law of Self-Sacrifice : " This is the 
golden chain of love, whereby the whole creation is bound to the throne 
of the Creator." 



TO THE QUEEN. 20I 

427. The island-valley of Avilioii. C£. Ga^-eth and Lynette, 492, and 
see vol. i, p. 198. 

435. Fluting a wild carol, etc. Cf. The Dying Swan. 

Sir Thomas Browne, in his Vulgar Errors, says : " From great an- 
tiquity, and before the melody of Syrens, the musical note of swans 
hath been commended, and they sing most sweetly before their death ; 
for thus we read in Plato, that from the opinion of metempsychosis, or 
transmigration of the souls of men into the bodies of beasts most suita- 
ble unto their human condition, after his death Orpheus the musician 
became a swan ; thus was it the bird of Apollo, the god of music, by 
the Greeks ; and an hieroglyphick of music among the Egyptians, from 
whom the Greeks derived their conception." 

440. Aiid on the mere the wailing died away. Here the original 
Morte d'Arthjcr ends. 

The next five lines are not in the 1869 ed. which goes on thus : — 

" At length he groan'd, and turning slowly clomb 
The last hard footstep of that iron crag." 

445. From the great deep, etc. Repeated from Merlin's "riddling 
triplets " in The Coming of Arthur, 410. 

463. Even to the highest. The 1869 ed. has " E'en," for which the 
printer is probably responsible, as Tennyson never uses it. 

TO THE QUEEN. 

This was first printed in the " Library Edition " of the Poems, 1872-73. 

3. That re?nemberable day. Referring to the public thanksgiving in 
February, 1872, on the recovery of the Prince of Wales from typhoid 
fever. 

12. Thunderless lightnings striking tinder sea, etc. Congratulatory 
despatches by submarine telegraph. 

14. That true North, etc. When Manitoba was added to the Do- 
minion of Canada, complaint was made in England of the cost of 
maintaining the colonial possessions in North America. Mr. Justin 
McCarthy, in his History of Our Own Times, says : " For some years a 
feehng was spreading in England which began to find expression in 
repeated and very distinct suggestions that the Canadians had better 
begin to think of looking out for themselves. Many Englishmen com- 
plained of this country being expected to undertake the principal cost of 
the defences of Canada, and to guarantee her railway schemes, especially 
when the commercial policy which Canada adopted towards England 
was one of a strictly protective character." 

20. The roar of Hougoumont. The battle of Waterloo. The Chdteaii 
of Hougoufnont, with its massive buildings, its gardens and plantations, 
was occupied by the Allies, and " formed the key to the British position." 
It is computed that "during the day the attacks of nearly 12,000 men 
were launched against this miniature fortress, notwithstanding which the 
garrison held out to the last." 

35. For one to whom I made it, etc. Referring to the dedication of 
the Idylls to the memory of Prince Albert. 



202 NOTES. 

41. Geoffrey'' s book, or. him of Mallear'' s. Geoffrey of Monmouth and 
Malory, whose name was also written Malorye, Maleore, Malleor, etc. 
53. Cowardice, the child of hist for gold. Cf. Maud, i. 1.6: — 

" Why do they prate of the blessings of Peace? we have made them a curse, 
Pickpockets, each hand lusting for all that is Hot its own ; 
And lust of gain, in the spirit of Cain, is it better or worse 
Than the heart of the citizen hissing in war on his own hearthstone? " 

55. With poisonous honey stolen from France. Cf. Locksley Hall Sixty 
Years After, 145 : " Set the maiden fancies wallowing in the troughs of 
Zolaism," etc. Littledale quotes Goldwin Smith, Essays : "As to 
French novels, Carlyle says of one of the most famous of the last cen- 
tury that after reading it you ought to wash seven times in Jordan ; 
but after reading the French novels of the present day, in which lewd- 
ness is sprinkled with sentimental rose-water, and deodorized, but not 
disinfected, your washings had better be seventy times seven." 

60. Crowning common-sejtse, etc. Cf. the Ode on the Death of 
Wellingto7t, 32 : " Rich in saving common-sense." 



INDEX. 



Alcor, 189. 
Alioth, iSg. 
Almesbury, 192. 
approver!, 194. 
Arimathasan Joseph, 175. 
Aromat, 175. 

Arthur's Harp (star), 188. 
Arthur's Table Round 

(stars), 179. 
Arviragus, 176. 
Astolat, 163. 
aught (= cipher), 188. 
Avilion, 201. 

Badqn Hill, 165. 

basilisks, 179. 

battles, twelve great, 165, 

195- 
belling (of hounds), 189. 
black king's highway, iSS. 
blank (^ hlaliche), 163: 
blazoned (heraldic), 163. 
blood (=: relatives), 169. 
blue-eyed cat (deaf), 181. 
Bos, 194. 

broken music, 188. 
Bude, 194. 
burning spurge, 188. 
by (= compared with), 191. 

Cana, him of, iSo. 
Carbonek, 181. 
cheer (r: hospitality), 166. 
circles, Druidical, 179. 
cockatrice, 180. 
communed (accent), 194. 
counter (= opposite), 178. 
crack (of earthquake), 185. 
crowning common sense, 



crying on help, 178. 
cuisses, 200. 

curiously (:= carefully), 187. 
cygnet, color of, 172. 

dead-green stripes of even. 



deafer than blue-eyed cat, 

181. 
Dean, Forest of, i3i. 
devoir, 164. 
diamond me no diamonds, 

167. 
divinely, 164. 
dole of beauty, igo. 
dole (^ charity), 196. 
donjon, 182. 
double-dragoned chair, 187. 

earth (^hole), 179. 
Elaine le Blank, 163. 
eneled, 174. 

ever-climbing wave, 1S7. 
Excalibur, 197, 198. 

far blood, 169. 

fearful (= full of fear), 194. 

fewmets, 188. 

field noir, 189. 

fine fear, 168. 

fire of God, i66. 

flaming death, 195- 

fluting a wild carol, 201. 

Forest of Dean, 181. 

France, poisonous honey 

from, 202. 
fulfil (= fill full), 190. 

Galahad, 176. 

garnet - headed yaffingale, 

191. 
Geoffrey's book, 202. 
ghostly man, 171. 
Glastonbury, 175. 
great water, a, 197. 

haler, 196. 

Harp of Arthur, 188. 
heads of violence, 178. 
held the lists, 167. 
hern, 168. 
hest, 198. 

him (of Excalibur), 198. 
honey, poisonous (from 
France), 202. 



Hougoumont, 201. 
housel, 174, 194. 
hundred winters old, 176. 

island-valley of Avilion, 201 

Joseph of Arimathea, 175. 
jousts (singular), 187. 
joyance, 173. 

lawn (in forest), iSS, 191. 
lazy-plunging sea, 1S9. 
lets (= hinders), 164. 
lief, igg. 

Light-of-love, 184. 
lily maid of Astolat, 163. 



193- 
low sun, 164. 
lurdane, 184. 
Lyonnesse, 164, 197. 

machicolated, 1S9, 
Maiden of the Lake, 199. 
make him cheer, 166. 
nialkin, igi. 
Malleor, 202. 
market-cross, 179. 
mawkin, igi. 
may-time, 194. 
may (^ white hawthorn). 



193- 



186. 



mazed (= bewildered), 
Moab (allusion), i8g. 
muse (^ wonder), 171. 
music, broken, 188. 
myriad cricket, 164. 

naked aught, 188. 
noir (heraldic), i8g. 
noise (^ music), 166. 
northern morn (^ aurora 

borealis), igg. 
not (position), 170. 

ourselves (as nominati/e), 

168. 



204 



INDEX. 



pale (noun), 175. 
paramount, 190. 
Paynim, 179, 188. 
Perilous Seat, the, 177. 
phantom of the house, 171. 
phantom circle, 197. 
prime (canonical), 183. 
prowest, 183. 
ptarmigan, 191. 

Queen Paramount, 190. 
quiet life, the, 180. 

rathe, 166. 

rememberable day, 201. 
retinue (accent), 194. 
roky, 189. 

sacring of the mass, 179. 
sallowy isle, 188. 
samite, 167. 

sanctuary, to take, 193. 
scape, 194. 
scathe, 194. 
scaur, 164. 
scorpion-worm, 189. 



seest (dissyllable), 198. 
shining levels of the lake, 

198. 
shingly sour, 164. 
shivers (o^ animal), 183. 
shrift, 194. 
shrive me clean, 171. 
Siege Perilous, the, 177. 
silent life, the, 181. 
sin in leading-strings, to, 

190. 
slot (of deer), 188. 
smoke (of yew-tree), 175. 
sons of God, shoutings of, 

179. _ 
sound is in his ears, 187. 
spiring stone, 190. 
spiritual city, 179. 
spurge, 188. 
star above the wakening 

sun, 186. 
still (= always), 164. 
summer side, 172. 

tale (=: number), 164. 
Taliessin, 178. 



tarriance, 168. 

tawnier than her cygnet's, 

172. 
thunderless lightnings, 201. 
Tintagil, 189, 194. 
tonguesters, 188. 
turning of the world, 186. 
twelve great battles, 165, 

195. 

vail (= cast down), 188, 

victim s flowers, 170. 

water, a great, 197. 

White Horse, the, 166, 178, 

193- 
worm (= serpent), 189. 
worship (= honor), 173. 
wyvern, 178. 

yaffingale, 191. 

yellow - throated nestling, 

163. 
yew-tree, smoke of, 175. 
yule, 179. 



